Stirring the leaves
by Kindle-the-Stars
Summary: "Your presence here in Middle-Earth is like the wind in the trees, Miss Darrow," Gandalf said, smoke wreathed around his head. "You may stir the branches, even knock loose a few leaves, but the tree itself remains untouched." Thorin/OC
1. A chance meeting

Rated T for some swearing

* * *

**"When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened. But in my dreams, I slew the dragon … Don't you understand, I already have a plan. I'm waiting for my real life to begin."**

**_Colin Hay, Waiting for my real life to begin._**

**"I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived."**

**_Henry David Thoreau, 'Walden' paraphrased from Dead Poet's Society_**

* * *

Gandalf was roused from his thoughts when a tankard was thumped onto the table in front of him, a small amount of ale splashing over the rim and onto the wood.

"You look troubled," Thorin Oakenshield said, a tankard of his own in his hand. His clothes were travel-stained and he had a pack on his back, his customary shield tied to the top.

"Indeed, my thoughts were weighing heavily," Gandalf said, shifting over to make room for the Dwarf at his table. "Come, join me."

Thorin did so, depositing his pack under the table. "Can I interest you in a fill of Old Toby?" the Wizard asked, offering his tobacco pouch in return for the ale.

"Indeed, I would be grateful, my supply ran out some weeks ago." They were silent as Thorin filled and lit his pipe. It was only when there was smoke wreathed around his head that he spoke again. "It has been some time since I last saw you, old friend."

"You are returning to Ered Luin?" Gandalf surmised, based on his travel worn appearance.

"Aye, I journeyed eastwards to the Iron Hills to see Dain," Thorin said, his eyes darting around the Prancing Pony pub, constantly alert for danger, even in the quaint village of Bree. His heavy brows were lowered in a scowl and Gandalf noticed that the Dwarf had more streaks of grey in his hair than when he had last seen him.

"You look troubled also," he observed, hoping to draw him into further conversation.

"I travelled past Erebor," Thorin said, explaining the reason for his preoccupation. "The people of the area say that Smaug has not been seen for nigh on sixty years."

"And you think to march on the mountain?" Gandalf asked, realising that Thorin was brooding on the loss of his homeland.

"The possibility of such an expedition has been foremost in my mind since leaving the Iron Hills," he said. "To march an entire army from the Blue Mountains to Erebor could be disastrous, and almost certainly will be if Smaug still lives."

"Yet you still think to try," Gandalf said, recognising the stubbornness of Dwarves once they set their minds on a task. "What did Dain say on the matter?"

"He liked the idea of having an ally so close, the Iron Hills are very remote. However, he deferred promising military aid, he said he must consider the risks first." Thorin exhaled a long puff of smoke. "He counselled me to proceed with caution."

"Perhaps that is wise."

"What would your counsel be?" The Dwarf King asked, surprising him with his desire for advice. Dwarves were a notoriously private race, not liking others interfering with their business.

Gandalf thought for a moment, mulling over the implications of an army marching to Erebor and the other possible alternatives.

"You are planning battle and war," he said eventually. "A more subtle strategy might be advisable."

Thorin frowned. "You are thinking a small company as opposed to an army?"

Gandalf paused as a memory from long ago was stirred – many hundreds of years ago he had visited another world that had stories detailing events in Middle Earth. He had previously dismissed it as nonsense, but now events and names were beginning to line up with what he remembered from these tales. If he recalled correctly, Thorin's expedition would not end entirely satisfactorily.

"Gandalf?" Thorin prompted, and he realised he had been silent for some time.

"Let me think on this," he said. "I shall give you counsel, but there are questions that need answering before I do so."

Thorin nodded. "We will be having a conclave in Ered Luin in two months time. Your presence would be welcome at the meeting."

"I will be there," he promised, and then, draining the rest of the ale, stood to leave.

"Leaving already?"

"Yes, there are things to be done," Gandalf said cryptically, already thinking of the magic needed to transfer himself to another world. "I have far to travel if I am to provide the most fruitful advice to you." He nodded his head respectfully to the Dwarf. "I shall see you soon, my friend."

* * *

Lizzy drummed her fingers on the counter, idly looking around the empty bookshop. It had been a slow day and she had already reorganised several shelves, ordered new stock and tidied the storeroom. Bored, she had Tumblr open on her iphone and was surreptitiously scrolling down the Supernatural tag, occasionally reblogging pictures of the Winchester brothers. She was just wondering if her boss, who was busy doing the accounts in the upstairs office, would notice if she dashed across the road to get an ice-cream as a respite from the August heat when the bell above the door tinkled.

The man who entered was rather old, wearing a grey blazer and matching fedora. She smiled brightly in greeting and he tipped his hat at her, but he seemed to know what he was looking for and so she didn't offer assistance.

Several minutes later he approached the counter clutching a single book, which he placed next to the till.

Lizzy grinned when she saw that it was a copy of _The Hobbit_. "It's a great book, I'm sure you will love it," she said, scanning the barcode.

"I read it a very long time ago, and now I want to reread it," the man explained, and Lizzy felt that there was something familiar about his voice. "I cannot help but feel that there is something wrong with it," he added, almost too low for her to hear.

"Maybe it's the ending," she said, placing the book in a bag.

"What do you mean?"

"You've read it, right? I won't be giving you any spoilers?" she checked, and the man nodded. "Well, don't you think it's strange that Dain ends up King? He is a practically unmentioned character, in fact he flatly rejects the notion of retaking Erebor." She braced her elbows on the counter as she continued, unaware of the intense look the man was giving her. "I mean, Thorin dying is kind of understandable, he succumbed to the dragon sickness, the lure of the treasure. But Fili and Kili?" she pulled a face, remembering how annoyed she had been at their barely mentioned deaths. "I remember thinking when I first read it how inconvenient it was that only those of the line of Durin died, and someone not directly of the line became King after all the trouble they went to."

"Yes … that is precisely what is wrong with the story," the man said slowly, seeming deep in thought. He suddenly looked up at her, his eyes sharp. "You say it is a favourite of yours?"

"Yeah, bit of a Tolkien nerd," she said with a smile. "I am actually travelling to New Zealand in a few months with my little brother. I can't wait to see the film sets."

"You wish to see Middle Earth?"

"More than anything," she said with a dramatic eyeroll, and then grinned at her customer, remembering that he had yet to pay for the book. "That will be six ninety-nine, please."

He handed her a crisp ten pound note and when she gave him his change he placed it all in the charity tin by the till.

"Have a good day," she said as he gathered the bag to leave.

"You too, my dear," he said, and then paused at the door. "Might I enquire your name?"

"Elizabeth," she said, smiling at him once more. "Lizzy Darrow."

* * *

Two months after a chance meeting in Bree, Gandalf found himself striding through Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains, approaching the meeting room where the Dwarves conclave was being held, not even pausing to admire the finely carved, vaulted stone ceiling.

"Well, what have you got to say?" Thorin asked imperiously from his ornately decorated chair almost the moment Gandalf entered the Hall.

Gandalf pointedly took his time settling into his designated seat, pulling out his pipe and lighting it before replying. "I stand by what I said in Bree," he said eventually, expelling a puff of smoke. "Open war would not only be useless but practically impossible to organise. You will have to try something simpler and yet bolder, indeed something desperate."

"You are both vague and disquieting," Thorin said, his brow heavy. "Speak plainly."

"Well, for one thing you will have to go _secretly_. No messengers, heralds, or challenges for you, Thorin Oakenshield. At most you can take with you a few kinsmen or faithful followers," Gandalf said, nodding towards the other members of the conclave. "But you will need something more, something unexpected – or rather, _two_ things unexpected."

"And they are?"

"As you know, Smaug is both old and cunning, you must allow for both his long memory and his unparalleled sense of smell. You can be sure that he remains vigilant for the faintest air of Dwarf in his domain, as well as the sound of Dwarf-feet."

"You make your stealthy approach sound as difficult and hopeless as any open attack," said Balin. "Impossibly difficult!"

"Difficult, perhaps," Gandalf allowed, "but not impossible, else I would not waste my time here." He paused, judging the Dwarves dour expressions at his proclamation. "For the first unexpected addition to your company, I suggest you take a Hobbit with you. Smaug has probably never heard of Hobbits, and he has certainly never smelt them."

"What?" cried Gloin. "One of those simple food-growers down in the Shire?"

"Indeed, there is one that I have my eye on as a companion for you, Thorin. He is clever and shrewd, and far from rash. And I think he has courage. Great courage, I guess, according to the way of his people. Furthermore, he is as soft-footed as any Hobbit. When I said that you would need stealth, I meant it: professional stealth."

"Professional stealth?" repeated Balin, taking Gandalf's words in a rather different vein than he had intended. "Do you mean a trained treasure-seeker? This Hobbit is a thief then, is that why you recommend him?"

At this, Gandalf threw caution to the wind, recognising that the Dwarves would not see past their prejudice of Hobbits unless he gave them cause to, and, if his sources were to be trusted, Bilbo would indeed take the role of a thief. "A thief?" he lied with a slight laugh. "Why yes, a professional thief!"

"What is this thief's name, or the one he uses?" Fili, Thorin's heir and oldest nephew asked.

"Hobbit's use their real names," he explained. "The only one he has is Bilbo Baggins."

"What a name!" Kili, Fili's younger brother, said with a laugh.

"And this second unexpected addition to the quest, what of that?" Thorin asked, speaking up once more.

"Another companion, a human, an advisor of sorts for the company," Gandalf said, being careful not to give out too much information.

"This business is the concern of Dwarves, I doubt a human could give us any advice of consequence," Thorin replied contemptuously, his brows lowered fiercely.

Gandalf straightened in his seat, feeling in his heart that both Bilbo and the young woman from Earth must go with the company, or else the whole quest would be a failure. In the course of his research in other worlds he had found several sources that detailed the Quest for Erebor and, despite their myriad variations, they all had one thing in common: Bilbo Baggins joining the company.

The clever young woman he had met, however, was unmentioned, yet Gandalf felt that she would be instrumental in insuring that the kingship of the mountain was held by the direct line of Durin.

"Listen to me, Durin's Folk!" he said, letting power seep into his voice. "If these two people accompany you then you will succeed, if not then you will fail. A foresight is on me, and I am warning you. If you refuse my advice them I have finished with you."

"Strong words!" Thorin said, recognising the seriousness of the Wizards tone. "I know of your fame, and I cannot help but wonder if your wits are simply addled in this foresight you claim to possess."

"My wits are addled by an exasperatingly proud Dwarf who seeks advice from my and then rewards me with insolence," Gandalf snapped. "Go your own ways, Thorin Oakenshield, but if you flout my advice then you will walk to disaster. And curb your pride and your greed, or you will fall at the end of whatever path you take, though your hands be full of gold."

Thorin's eyes flashed. "Do not threaten me, I will use my own judgement in this matter."

"Do so then, but remember that you asked my counsel for a reason." Gandalf paused, and then continued in a softer voice. "'I can say no more-unless it is this: I do not give my love or trust lightly, Thorin; but I am fond of both of these people, and wish them well. Treat them well, and you shall have my friendship to the end of your days."

It was said without hope of persuading the Dwarf King, but he could have said nothing better. Dwarves understand devotion to friends and gratitude to those who help them.

"Very well," Thorin said eventually. "They can come with us on one condition."

"Name it," the wizard said, hoping it was something he could acquiesce to.

"You must join us also."

Gandalf stroked his beard, weighing the implications of such a request. Unlike Bilbo's presence in the company, his own participation in the quest was not universally agreed upon in the sources he had found. He had been banking on the time to convince the White Council of the Shadow's growing threat.

"I shall come with you," he said eventually. "But I cannot promise my presence throughout the whole of this venture. Your deeds may seem of vital importance to you, but they are only a single strand and I must concern myself with the whole web."

Thorin nodded his understanding.

"With that settled, let us reconvene in the Shire in the middle of April," Gandalf proposed. "I shall put a thief's mark on the Hobbit's house, which can be found easily enough in the village of Hobbiton, and we shall set out from there."

"Make it the evening of the last day of April," Thorin interjected. "Not only must I gather a company together, I am due to travel north to a meeting with Dain's envoy, we are anticipating ambassadors from all seven of the Dwarven kingdoms."

"Be sure to keep this venture quiet, Thorin," he reminded him. "There is no point in stealth if the world knows your business."

Thorin nodded once more, and the conclave moved on to discuss other matters while Gandalf slipped quietly out of the Hall.

* * *

Several months later, Elizabeth Darrow found herself on a high ridge, looking out over a stunningly blue lake in the midst of New Zealand. She flung her arms wide and spun on the path, nearly knocking into her brother with her pack.

"Isn't this just _beautiful_?" she said, her golden-brown hair catching the sun as it fanned out while she twirled. "I feel like I am on an adventure already."

"Your adventure is going to end with you falling off the ridge if you're not careful," Peter, her younger brother, said as he squinted out over the lake.

"Kill joy," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "How long till we get to the campsite, do you reckon?" she asked, hoisting her medium sized backpack higher on her shoulders as they started walking again.

"An hour or so, maybe less," Peter said, following behind. He cleared his throat when she stepped off the path towards a small forest. "You're going the wrong way."

"I most certainly am not," Lizzy said, mildly affronted.

"The map says we follow the path along the ridge," Peter pointed out, clutching the guidebook.

"And that lovely Kiwi man we met in the bar the other night said we can cut about half an hour off the walk if we take the path straight through the forest," she countered.

"I think the map in the guidebook is more accurate than some drunk dude."

"He wasn't drunk, he said he has lived here all his life so I think he knows what he is talking about," she said in a blasé fashion. "Besides, the guide book is probably written by people who have never been to the area. _And_ if you look at the map the campsite is literally just on the other side of the forest, the path on the ridge just goes around the outside of the trees," she added, snatching the book from her brothers hands and flicking to the page with the map to show him. "This is a short cut."

"Since when do your short cuts work?" her brother asked, folding his arms.

"My short cuts always work, thank you very much," she said, properly affronted now.

"Uh, remember that time you drove me to Matt's house? We ended up on a dirt road."

"Yes, but we still got there eventually."

"After having to do a u-turn."

"Details," Lizzy said, waving a hand. "This is an _adventure_, we've got to take the path less travelled and all that jazz."

Peter snorted. "You should have done an English degree if you're going to quote poets at me."

"I happen to like Politics," she assured him, having recently graduated from University with a degree in Politics and was now enjoying her belated gap-year.

Her brother shook his head, returning to their original argument. "I still think we should take the ridge."

Lizzy bounced on the balls of her feet and grinned at him. "Well, if you're so certain how about we make it a race?"

"Last one to the campsite has to put up the tent?" he suggested a cocky smile of his own lighting his face. He shoved the guidebook into her hands. "Here, when you get lost on your shortcut you will be able to find your way back."

"Oh har har, we'll soon see who's laughing," she said, shoving the book into the side pocket of her backpack nevertheless. "See you later."

Peter waved over his shoulder, already heading down the ridge path, so Lizzy turned towards the forest. The path the Kiwi man had described was clear as day, so she strode confidently through the trees, occasionally humming to herself.

The sun was bright, it being New Zealand's summer time, and the trees provided a welcome shady respite after walking all morning. She and her brother were making the rural hike around the lake from the town they were staying in to a campsite on the far side, where a group of other travellers were planning on having a barbeque.

After about twenty minutes of walking she slowed down and checked her watch, remembering that the man who had recommended the path said it was only a ten minute walk through the small forest. After walking for five more minutes and not seeing the any sign of the edge of the trees she stopped again, consulting the map in the guidebook and checking the small compass that dangled from the zip of her pack. She was definitely going in the right direction, and the forest wasn't very large at all. The path was clear behind her, so she continued on, knowing that she could easily double back and catch up with her brother on the ridge path, the only thing lost being her pride.

The trees started to thin and she soon found herself by the forests edge, only instead of the campsite she was expecting there were broad plains and hills, not a single building in sight. Frowning, she checked the guidebook once more – apparently the western edge of the forest, which her compass told her was where she was, went straight onto the campsites land, yet she could see nothing.

She was hesitating on the edge of the trees, confusedly wondering what she should do, when she heard a twig snap behind her.

"Hello?" she said, scanning the trees.

The rustling stopped. "Who calls?" a masculine voice answers.

"Uh, hi – over here," she said, and there was the sound of heavy footsteps through the undergrowth. A branch was swept aside and she was startled to see the most strangely dressed man she had ever met. He was rather short and broad, possibly an inch taller than her five foot one frame, had long blond hair and, interestingly, a braided moustache. He was also dressed in a long leather coat with an intricate design and a broad belt, and had a sword strapped to his waist.

"Whoa, awesome costume," she said admiringly as the man looked at her in confusion. "Are you cosplaying?"

"I beg your pardon?" he said, a slight frown on his face.

"Or is it one of those LARPing things?"

"_Larping_?" he repeated, still staring at her as if she was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

"You know, live action role play?"

He shook his head bemusedly, the braids of his moustache swaying. "What are you talking about?" he asked, and then glanced around. "Are you out here alone, my lady?"

"Yes – well, no," she added. "I'm with my brother, but we are meeting at the campsite." She gave him a winning smile. "Can you tell me how to get there?"

"Do you refer to the camp on the shore of the River Lune?" the man asked, looking mildly concerned now. "It is at least a days walk from here."

"Um, no," she said, never having heard of this river before in her extensive research of the area. "It's called Kawerau," she said, stumbling a little over the New Zealand pronunciation and opening the guidebook to show him the map.

"What a strange book," he said, stepping closer to look. He seemed more interested in the book itself than what she was trying to show him, flicking curiously through the pages. "I have never seen such vivid paintings."

Lizzy smiled a little condescendingly at him. "Are you not allowed to break character or something?"

"Fili!" a voice hollered from within the trees and she raised her eyebrows at the familiar name.

"Over here," he called back and moments later another man stepped out from the trees. He was equally short and also dressed in leather, but with darker hair, stubble, and a bow across his back.

"How long does it take to gather firewood?" he said teasingly and then paused, noticing Lizzy and raising his eyebrows. "Good evening, my lady. Kili, at your service," he said with a bow.

"Fili and Kili," she said, smiling now, appreciating just how well made their costumes were. "Are you guys doing some kind of story re-enactment thing?"

"Do all humans speak in this strange way?" Fili asked, holding the book loosely in one hand.

She sighed. "Look, I get that you guys can't break character, but I am kinda lost, so if you could just point me in the direction of Kawerau that would be great," she said, taking the book from Fili and opening it to the map again since he had lost the page. "I could have sworn I was going in the right direction."

Kili looked interestedly over her shoulder at the book. "This is a map," he stated, sounding almost surprised.

"Uh, yeah," Lizzy said.

"It is not a map of the region we are currently in," he added in the air of one stating the obvious.

"Yes, it is," she said in an equally patronising voice. "I started here this morning, and now we should be around about here," she said, pointing out the town and campsite on the map.

"Where is our map?" Fili asked his companion.

"In my pack, at the camp," Kili replied.

Lizzy blinked at their mention of the camp." So you _do_ know where the campsite is?"

Fili gestured towards the trees. "Come with us, my lady. You can share our meal and look at our map, and we can see if between us we can figure out where you are going."

She thought about it for a second and then shrugged her acquiescence. "Okay, and don't call me 'my lady,'" she added. "The name is Lizzy."

"An unusual name," Kili said, leading the way into the trees.

"Not really," she said bemusedly. "You guys really go all out with this cosplaying thing, don't you?"

"What is this cosplaying you keep mentioning?" Fili asked from behind her.

"Dressing up in costumes, pretending to be people from stories," she said, a hint of patronisation entering her tone once more.

The two men shared a look, and then Fili spoke. "These are our normal clothes, you are the one who is dressed strangely," he said, his gaze flickering briefly down over her layered t-shirts, black cargo trousers and walking boots.

She was spared from replying as they arrived at their camp – or rather the clearing where their two leather bags were stored, a small circle of stones in the middle for a fire that was sadly lacking in firewood. Kili went straight to one of the packs and rummaged around inside, eventually coming up with a folded piece of parchment.

"This is our map," he said, handing it over.

Lizzy unfolded it curiously and then smiled indulgently, instantly recognising the map and being amused by their antics. "This is a map of the Shire."

"So you do know the area," Fili said, sounding pleased.

"Very funny," she said, handing the map back. "We aren't really in the Shire."

"Not technically yet, we are approximately here," Kili said, pointing to an area called the Evendim Hills. "We will cross the Shire's boarders tomorrow."

"Okay, stop it now, this isn't funny," she snapped, folding her arms.

Kili paused. "I was not telling a joke, Miss Lizzy."

"Sure," she said sarcastically. "So what is this, some kind of prank you Kiwi's play on the tourists? Trying to trick people who come to see the film sets that they actually are in Middle Earth?"

The two men shared another confused look. "We are in Middle Earth," Fili said.

"No, we are in New Zealand," she countered with the air of one talking to a particularly slow child.

"New Zealand," he repeated. "I have never heard of this place."

Lizzy straightened her shoulders and gave the pair of them a withering look. "You know what? I refuse to sit here and be mocked. If you guys won't help me then I'll just retrace my steps to the edge of the forest."

Fili stepped forward, one hand slightly raised. "Miss Lizzy, night is falling, you should not wander alone. Truly, if you wish to find this place you speak of you should at least wait until morning. You are welcome to share our camp for the night."

"What do you mean, night is falling? It's barely mid-afternoon."

Kili glanced up at the trees. "It will be dark in less than an hour. Will you at least allow one of us to accompany you to the edge of the forest?"

"No," she said adamantly. "Thanks, but no thanks."

As she turned to stalk out of the small clearing the air was rent by a distant howl.

She paused, confused. "Was that a wolf?"

"Aye, the Dim Hills are crawling with them," Fili said.

"There are no wolves in New Zealand," she said, sounding less confident than she had a moment ago.

There was another howl, this one sounding slightly closer.

"Please, for your own safety, stay here tonight," Fili said, sounding genuinely concerned.

She chewed her lip, not willing to stay with them but also much more nervous of the forest than she had been a moment ago. "Fine, one of you can come with me," she all but snapped. "But I am still going, it should only be a twenty minute walk to the ridge."

Kili shoved the map back in his bag and hoisted his bow higher on his shoulder. "Get a fire going while I am gone, won't you?" he said, and Fili nodded.

Giving Fili a slight smile, she left the clearing and led the way through the forest, quickly finding the path she had been on before. They walked in silence for several minutes, and then Kili cleared his throat behind her.

"Are you sure this is the way?" he asked, sounding doubtful.

"This is the path I was on before," she said confidently, and decided to make more conversation. "So where are you from?" she asked, since his accent sounded vaguely Celtic but she couldn't place it, despite being English herself.

"Ered Luin, a mountain range to the north-west of here," he replied, his eyes scanning the trees.

"No need to pretend, your buddy isn't around," she said. "He won't know if you break character."

Kili gave her a bemused look. "You are a very strange person."

She snorted. "This coming from the guy who is dressed as a Dwarf."

"I am a Dwarf," he said seriously.

"Right, I get it," she said, her tone patronising once more.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, until their tramp through the undergrowth startled a pheasant from beneath a bush. Almost quicker than the eye could follow, Kili had pulled his bow from his shoulder, nocked an arrow and let it fly, shooting the bird down onto the path.

"Whoa, great shot," she said with genuine admiration, never having seen anyone do something like that before.

"Thank you," Kili said with an easy smile, holding the pheasant by its neck. "Fili will be pleased to have meat for supper, our rations were beginning to run low."

They continued on through the forest, and Lizzy noticed that it was beginning to get dark. Checking her watch, she saw that it was just passed four – the sun shouldn't be setting for another few hours at least.

"This isn't much of a path," Kili pointed out, breaking the silence once again and interrupting her musings.

"It did seem bigger earlier," she said, less confident in her navigational abilities now. She checked the compass once again and was relieved to see they were still heading eastwards – as long as they stuck in that direction they would reach the ridge and lake regardless of whether or not they were on the forest path. She found herself wondering if her brother had reached the campsite yet. "We are going the right way though."

"What is this device?" Kili asked, looking at her small compass with great interest.

Lizzy smiled condescendingly. "It's a compass, it shows you how to find north."

Kili examined the compass and then squinted up at the sky. "Interesting," he said, fascinated. "It really does point north."

She rolled her eyes, really beginning to tire of their pretending now. "Should only be a few more minutes," she said, and then smiled as she noticed the trees beginning to thin. "There, I can see the edge."

Hurrying out from the trees, she stopped in her tracks when she saw broad, grassy hills as far as the eye could see – no ridge, no path, and certainly no sparkling lake with a faint view of the town in the distance.

Her jaw gaped, staring wide-eyed at her surroundings. "This is impossible," she muttered.

"Miss Lizzy?" Kili said, his voice jolting her back to reality – or at least, what she thought was reality. She stared at him, taking in once more his braided hair, the travel stained clothes and the bow he held in one hand, remembering the map he had shown her barely twenty minutes ago.

Impossible.

Turning on her heel, she bolted in the direction of the hills, wanting to get high enough to see her surroundings properly.

"Miss Lizzy!" Kili called from behind her, but she didn't stop and she heard him start running behind her.

Panting and giving herself a stitch in her side, she reached the top of the closest hill, Kili arriving just behind her with the limp pheasant still dangling from his grip. From this high vantage point she could see out over the forest they had just left, noticing the lush green plains for miles in every direction.

"No, this … this is …" She spun around to look, still gasping for breath and feeling absolutely overwhelmed.

She felt a tentative touch on her shoulder. "Miss Lizzy, are you alright?"

"No! No, I am not alright," she wheezed, feeling very light headed, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. "Everything's … oh _fuck_, I think I am going to -"

Suddenly, in an act that she would come to be very embarrassed about, which Fili and Kili would occasionally tease her with in the coming months, the ground rushed up to meet her and all she saw was darkness.

* * *

**Lots of the conversation between Thorin and Gandalf is taken and adapted from Tolkien's _Quest for Erebor_ in the_ Unfinished Tales._**

**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, reviews and constructive criticism are most welcome. **

**Also, you can follow any updates / ask questions about the story on my tumblr **_**Kindle-the-Stars**_


	2. Impossible things

"**Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."**

_**Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.**_

* * *

Lizzy woke up feeling groggy and confused. Squinting her eyes, she was surprised to see leaves and a dark sky above her. She was covered by a blanket of some sort and had something soft under her head. The low sound of voices drifted over from one side, gradually getting louder as she became more coherent.

"... thought she was touched in the head, but _look_ at this stuff, I have never seen anything like it," one of the voices said. "And remember how surprised she was when we mentioned Middle Earth, I don't think she is from this world."

"I didn't even know such things were possible," a second voice said. "How did she get here?"

"Mahal knows."

Lizzy turned her head and saw Fili and Kili hunched by the fire. The contents of her bag was strewn around them and they were examining various items by the light of the fire. She raised a hand to her head, covering her eyes, and groaned as she remembered what had happened – that she was somehow, impossibly, in Middle Earth.

"She's waking up."

Both of them were by her side in an instant, with Kili helping her sit up properly. The blanket she had been using fell off her and she realised that they had draped one of their cloaks over her to keep her warm, while another had been folded beneath her head. Kili must have carried her back to the camp after she had fainted, she realised.

God, how _mortifying._

"How do you feel?" Fili asked, trying to look into her face.

"Fine," she said, her head still resting in one hand. "Embarrassed." She dropped her hand and peered at the two brothers. "Oh god, did I really faint?"

"I'm afraid so," Kili said.

"Please don't tell anyone," she all but ordered, ashamed that she had apparently collapsed like some sappy, swooning heroine.

"Our lips are sealed," Fili said, a slight smile playing around his mouth.

Lizzy glanced over towards the fire, where the thoroughly cooked pheasant was roasting on a spit. She noticed the disarray of her belongings again and realised that they must have rooted through her bag while she slept. "You went through my bag," she said accusingly, looking back to the brothers.

"We were curious about you," Kili shrugged, entirely unrepentant.

"Are you really from another world?" Fili asked, all seriousness.

"Depends," she said, and slumped back down onto her makeshift pillow, staring up at what she could see of the night sky through the leaves that were being stirred by a faint breeze. "Is this really Middle Earth?" he asked without hope, not actually expecting them to suddenly announce that they were locals just pulling her leg.

"Yes."

She sighed and sat up again, gradually coming to terms with her new reality. "Then yes, I am from another world. I can't believe this – I mean surely it's _impossible_."

"How did you get here?" Kili wanted to know.

Lizzy shook her head a little, equally confused. It wasn't like she had explored a mysterious wardrobe, or had been struck by lightning, or swallowed by a hippo or something equally ridiculous. Thinking back, it must have happened some time while she was walking through the trees, though she couldn't say an exact moment. "I don't know. I was walking through a forest in my world, and then I just … walked into Fili," she explained, gesturing at the blond brother. A thought suddenly struck her and her eyes widened in fear. "How the _hell _am I going to get back? My brother is going to be all on his own!"

The idea of Peter being alone in New Zealand, wondering what had happened to her, nearly sent her into a panic. By now she would have been gone long enough for people to worry: he might have called the police, people would be searching for her. She scrambled out from underneath the cloak, diving for her phone which was lying out by her open pack and checked the screen – no messages or missed calls, and absolutely no signal.

"Maybe Gandalf could help her?" Kili suggested tentatively from behind her – apparently both brothers had been somewhat startled by her suddenly leaping for her bag.

"Good idea," Fili said, making her look up from her depressingly inactive phone. "We are on our way to meet a Wizard, Gandalf the Grey. I am sure he will be able to help you."

"You're meeting him in the Shire?" Lizzy asked, realising that she must be near the very start of _The Hobbit_. Her mind had just about wrapped around the fact that she was in Middle Earth, but it hadn't properly occurred to her that she was in a _story_, one of her favourites at that. Still, Gandalf was pretty powerful, Kili was right in his suggestion that he might be able to help her. "Do you mind if I tag along?"

"Not a bit," Kili said with an easy smile.

"Thanks," she said, smiling back at them for the first time since she had woken up. "And, um, sorry if I came across a little … _crazy _earlier. I must have sounded really weird."

"It did a little, though in hindsight your confusion was understandable," Fili said as they came to join her by the fire. "Why were you talking about us dressing up?"

"Dwarves don't exist in my world, it looked like you two were … acting," she explained, deciding not to divulge that Dwarves were fictional; she knew she probably shouldn't tell them anything about the story.

"And these things?" Fili went on to ask, nodding at the items scattered on the ground – her small first aid kit, a flashlight, her phone and ipod, a lighter, a sudoko book and deck of cards.

"Technology from my world," she said, not really in the mood to dazzle them by showing off what these foreign items could do, still disappointed (though unsurprised) that her phone wouldn't work. She slowly repacked the items on top of her changes of clothes, fleece, waterproof jacket and small food supply. It appeared that they hadn't got very far in going through her bag, otherwise they would no doubt be haphazardly strewn around the clearing as well.

"Are you hungry, Miss Lizzy?" Fili said, stoking the fire with a stick.

"Yes actually, I am," she said, wondering how long it had been since she had last eaten. Kili quickly stripped some meat from the pheasant with a knife and handed her a crude plate, containing meat and dry bread. She thanked him and ate it without complaint, surprised by how juicy the smoky flavoured meat was.

Kili yawned widely while she was eating. "Think we need to set a watch tonight?" he asked his brother.

Fili shook his head, "No, we're close enough to the Shire. If we build up the fire enough to burn through the night it should keep most creatures away.

"Didn't you say there were wolves?" she interrupted, talking with her mouth full.

"They won't come near the fire," he assured her.

The two Dwarves were soon showing signs of retiring, rolling out bedrolls and adding a few more logs to the fire. Finishing her meagre meal, she placed the plate down beside the fire and started rummaging through her bag. Her brother had their tent attached to his pack, but she did have her sleeping bag liner, folded up small at the bottom of her pack – New Zealand had been hot enough that the thin liner had provided sufficient warmth, though it was slightly chillier here.

"What month is it?" she asked curiously, unravelling the liner and shaking it out.

"Nearly the end of April," Fili told her, bundling up his cloak to rest his head on, fully dressed and seemingly uncaring about the chill in the air. Kili was sprawled out next to him on his bedroll, his arms folded behind his head.

Lizzy took her time setting up her sleeping bag liner on the other side of the fire, using her backpack as a pillow. By the time she had unlaced her boots and got into the sleeping bag both brothers were lying perfectly still with their eyes closed.

"Goodnight," she said quietly, gazing up at the leaves above her once again, but her only reply was a soft snore.

Unsurprisingly, she found that she could not sleep. Not only was her mind in turmoil, but her body simply didn't feel tired. She checked her watch, which said six o'clock in the afternoon – clearly wrong, still being set to New Zealand time. Giving up on sleep for now, she opened her eyes and rolled over, loosing herself in staring at the flames until they had burned down low and she found that her mind was numbed enough to slip into sleep.

* * *

It was the sound of birds that eventually woke her, the dawn chorus chirping obnoxiously loud. She felt like she had barely slept, tempted to roll tighter into a ball, cover her head to drown out the sound and return to blissful oblivion. The idea was pushed from her mind when she heard quiet voices to one side. She scrunched her eyes even tighter shut as she identified them as Fili and Kili's – apparently her jaunt to Middle Earth was not some fantastical and vivid dream then. She peered out of her sleeping bag, having burrowed her face deeply under her covers as she slept curled up, locating the two Dwarf brothers by the fire.

Kili noticed her peeking out, blinking owlishly and no doubt dishevelled after having slept on the forest floor. "Ah, you're awake," he said jovially, and Fili glanced up at her from stirring a small pot over the flames. "We were going to wake you soon."

She sat up, yawned and stretched instead of replying, feeling the joints in her back protest slightly. "What time is it?" she asked, having checked her digital watch, and somehow doubting that it was eleven o'clock at night: she would have to find out the right time and reset her watch. She wondered if it was possible to get jet-lagged travelling between worlds and then dismissed the thought as being too much to consider so soon after waking.

"Still early, an hour or so passed dawn," Fili said, still peering intently into the pot. "And the sun rose around the sixth hour."

Deciding that there was no point lingering in the warmth of her sleeping bag she scrambled inelegantly out, exposing herself to the slight morning chill. Her hands got caught in her hair when she tried to run her fingers through it. She had a small comb in her bag somewhere but lacking a mirror she gave up her hair as a bad job, haphazardly tying it up in a messy bun with the bright green hair tie she had around one wrist. She stretched again, locking her arms above her head, and twisted until she heard something pop in her back.

Feeling slightly better, she located her boots and pulled them on, hopping slightly as she did so. "Is there a stream or anything nearby?" she asked as she did up the laces since her bladder was making itself known.

"That way," Fili said, gesturing with a nod of his head. They were serving what looked like porridge into two wooden bowls from the merrily bubbling pot over the fire.

Following the direction of his head nod, it didn't take her long to find the stream, which was maybe twenty metres from the camp. She glanced furtively around, making sure no one was nearby before she took care of business, so to speak, using a leaf in lieu of toilet paper. Plumbing and hygiene were two things she was already looking forward to getting back to in her world, she thought as she yanked her cargo trousers back up, and she hadn't even been in Middle Earth twenty four hours yet.

Afterwards, she splashed some cold water from the stream on her face, waking her up completely. She didn't care in the slightest that she wasn't wearing any makeup; while she had been travelling with her brother she had gotten out of the habit of wearing it, the bottles were inconvenient to carry through airport security and while hiking there was rarely an opportunity to put it on.

The cold water had chilled her fingers and she jammed them into her armpits for warmth as she returned to the camp. The sun hadn't risen high enough to warm the air, so she went straight to her pack and fished out her fleece, zipping it up to keep the cool air away from her body.

Kili finished off his bowl of porridge and quickly filled it up again before smilingly handing it too her. "Here you are, Miss Lizzy. We only have two bowls, so I'm afraid we have to share."

"Thanks," she said, touched by their consideration in sharing their food – a hot bowl of porridge certainly beat a cereal bar, which was her other option from her bag.

The porridge was very thin and bland, having been made with water, but it still warmed her from within. Whenever she had it at home she would make it with milk and sugar, sometimes even stirring jam into it too, but she nevertheless ate it gratefully, appreciating the warmth from the bowl seeping through her fingers.

The brothers pottered around the camp while she ate, stamping out the fire and repacking their bags. "Anything I can do to help?" she offered once she had finished eating.

Fili nudged his own porridge bowl with his foot, as well as the two plates which had been left by the fire the night before. "Do you mind washing these out?"

"No problem," she said, collecting them and heading towards the stream once more. She snickered slightly as she scrubbed the crockery in the cold water, remembering the Dwarves washing up song at Bilbo's house. She wondered briefly if that was something she would get to see, or if Gandalf would send her straight home.

The camp was entirely dismantled by the time she returned, handing a plate and bowl to each of the brothers as she passed them. It only took her a moment to bundle up her sleeping bag liner and shove it into her pack, then she was equally ready.

The three of them set out from the little forest, heading towards the lush green plains she had seen from her high vantage point yesterday evening. They quickly joined a well-worn, yet clear dirt road that the brothers called The Old North Road, which lead all the way to the mountains in one direction, and joined the Great East Road in another. Apparently they had been travelling along it for several days, having come from their homeland in the mountains and had only camped in the forest yesterday for want of firewood. The road cut between green hills, winding slightly but staying mostly flat. They set a quick pace but she was pleased to find that she could keep up easily, all of the hiking she had done around New Zealand had clearly paid off. She found herself immensely thankful that she was wearing decent walking shoes.

Conversation was stilted at first but the trio quickly grew more comfortable with each other. They whiled away the morning with idle conversation, Fili and Kili asking her numerous questions about her world. She wasn't sure how much of it they believed, seeming highly sceptical of things like cars and aeroplanes, but it helped to keep her mind occupied.

By the time they reached the boarders of the Shire the day had warmed up considerably, though it was still cooler than the New Zealand climate she had left. She had removed her fleece, tucking it into one of the straps of her pack, the layered t-shirts providing sufficient warmth. The hills gradually gave way to tilled fields as they walked and, to her great excitement, Lizzy caught a glimpse of her first Hobbit leading a pony attached to a plough through one of the fields.

"I can't believe I am actually in the Shire," she said, mostly to herself as they walked past another tiny Hobbit, just under four feet, high sporting a mop of corkscrew curls.

Of course, the brothers had heard her. "It's strange," Fili said, falling into step along side her. "You are from another world, and yet you seem familiar with these places."

"Oh, I have heard of Middle Earth, but in my world it's a fictional place," she said, figuring that it was fine to tell them this as long as she didn't divulge that they themselves were part of a story. "I read stories about this world."

"What kind of stories?" Kili asked interestedly.

She thought for a moment, trying to come up with a story she could tell them about – a difficult task, since most of them took place in the future. "Ever heard of the Silmarils?"

"Aye, strange Elven jewels from long ago."

"That's one of the stories I know."

"What others are there?" they pushed to know.

Lizzy smiled saucily, having no intention of telling them more. "Well now, that would be telling. But because of these stories I am pretty familiar with the general lay-out of Middle Earth, we may not have things like Dwarves or Elves or Hobbits in my world, but I do know what they are."

The trio received a few odd looks from Hobbits they saw as they walked through the Shire, probably due to Lizzy and her strange clothes since Dwarves were a reasonably common sight this close to their mountain range, often trading with the Hobbits. The area gradually became more populated as they moved further from the boarders and they passed numerous farms.

The air grew cooler again as the afternoon wore on and Lizzy donned her jacket again. Her legs were aching after the long day walking. They hadn't even paused for lunch, instead just eating an apple or two that they had found from trees growing alongside the road as they walked. Finally, as the sun begun to set, they reached their first proper village, which Fili identified as Nobottle.

Contrary to popular belief, not all Hobbit's live in holes, those belonging only to the wealthy: the village of Nobottle was largely made up of low wood and stone buildings that were almost universally one story high. The brothers quickly located the inn, cheerfully called The Beehive and the three of them ducked inside, instantly greeted by the delicious smell of food, mingled with smoke and the camaraderie of numerous Hobbit's enjoying an evening drink. Fili quickly took charge, weaving his way to the bar to enquire about food and a room while Kili tried to kick mud off his shoes.

"Hmm, I'm looking forward to a decent mug of ale," Kili said, looking around the pub. "I haven't had one since we left Ered Luin."

Suddenly realising something, Lizzy grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to whisper. "Kili, I don't have any money."

He gave her a bemused look. "How were you travelling without money?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I _have _money, but it's money from my world. And somehow I don't think they will accept credit cards."

Fili, returning from the bar, overheard their conversation. "No need to worry about money, Miss Lizzy. They only have the one room, so we will be paying the same price regardless."

Relieved, but still feeling like a bit of a scrounger off the brothers generosity, Lizzy trailed after them down the hallway, where a tiny Hobbit woman was holding open the door to a parlour, a small eating area away from the bustle of the bar. They had barely sat down, shoving their packs under the table, when another Hobbit arrived balancing three bowls containing the most mouth-watering beef stew she had ever encountered. The Hobbit vanished, only to appear seconds later with a plate of steaming, freshly baked bread in one hand and three tankards held together by the handles in the other.

They dug in, Lizzy's table manners somewhat better than the Dwarves, who seemed as hungry as she was. The stew was delicious, packed with vegetables and melt-in-the-mouth meat, and it was scant minutes before they were mopping up the gravy with the bread. Lizzy took a gulp from her tankard to wash down the meal. She was surprised to find that it tasted vaguely of honey, far more appetising than the Budweisers she had occasionally drunk at university.

"That was amazing," she said smilingly when the Hobbit woman came to collect their bowls. Fili and Kili quickly chimed in with their thanks also.

"You're very welcome, dear," the Hobbit said, and quickly returned with a tray of small, sweet seedcakes.

Once they had finished eating and Lizzy had explained the concept of food-babies, clarifying to the shocked brothers that no, she was not actually saying she pregnant with her off-hand comment, they returned to the bar area, ordering more drinks. She had another of the honey-meads, while Fili and Kili were enjoying their eagerly anticipated ales.

Hobbits were a generally friendly people, but they did seem rather cautious of the strangers and so they were largely left to their own devices in one corner. Midway through her third drink Lizzy was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, a faint and pleasant buzz.

"Thank you," she blurted suddenly when Fili suggested they retire for the night as the bar begun to empty. The brothers gave her a questioning look and she elaborated. "You know, thank you for paying for my food, taking me to see Gandalf and all of that. Seriously, I don't even know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you guys. I'd probably still be wandering around that forest."

"It is no trouble, Miss Lizzy," Kili said while Fili passed her pack to her.

"Drop the Miss, will you guys?" she said. "Just Lizzy is fine."

The kindly Hobbit lady, the innkeepers wife, saw them gathering their belongings and quickly hurried over to show them to their room. It was small and clean with what would be considered a queen sized bed in her world in the middle, a small bathroom off to one side and round windows. The Dwarves were kind enough to let her use the bathroom first and she was pleased to finally be able to brush her teeth – her brother had the toothpaste in his pack, having divided toiletry essentials between them, but even just scrubbing with water made her mouth feel less fuzzy.

They argued when the brothers tried to convince her to take the bed, but Lizzy was adamant that she would sleep on the floor. "If I wasn't here, both of you would sleep in that bed, wouldn't you?"

"Well yes -" Kili started to say, but she quickly interrupted him.

"Exactly, therefore since I didn't pay for the room, I will be sleeping on the floor."

Fili was looking uncomfortable, rubbing one hand behind his head. "Truly, Miss Li –_ Lizzy_," he corrected himself. "It is no -"

"Fili, if you say the words '_it's no trouble' _again I might have to hurt you," she said. "After everything you have done for me already you guys _deserve _the bed. Besides, when was the last time you actually slept inside?"

They looked at each other, clearly sensing that they were fighting a losing battle. "Over a week ago, when we left the Blue Mountains."

"Whereas I slept in a bed only two nights ago," she pointed out. "You guys get the bed."

"But ... you're a woman," Kili said, sounding troubled – apparently she was upsetting some notion of propriety here.

She drew herself up to her full height (she was short for a human at five foot one, so this made her about the same height as the Dwarf brothers) and folded her arms over her chest. "I am going to be sleeping on the floor regardless of what either of you say," she said in a tone that dared them to argue with her. "So you can either sleep on the floor as well and none of us get to be comfortable, or you can unbend your stubborn pride and just take the damn bed."

Sensing defeat, they gave in with bad grace – Lizzy thought she heard Kili muttering something about her own stubborn pride, but couldn't make out the words. They both took their turn in the small bathroom while she set out her sleeping bag liner on the floor, using her fleece as a pillow this time.

They removed their boots and leather coats to sleep, revealing tunics underneath. From her position on the floor she could distinctly make out the unpleasant smell of their feet, but knowing that she probably didn't smell all that fresh herself, decided not to comment, besides, having grown up with brothers and sharing a house at university with several of her less-than-tidy friends, she was used to unpleasant smells.

"Sleep well," she said sweetly when the brothers were settled back to back on the bed.

"G'night."

"Night, Lizzy."

Fili blew out the candle on the bedside table, plunging the room into darkness. After an exhausting day of walking, a belly full of good food and the pleasant hum of alcohol in her veins, Lizzy was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

The next morning Kili eyed her as she stretched and twisted from side to side, listening to the crunches in her back with a mildly disgusted expression. "You should have taken the bed," he observed.

"Whatever," she shrugged, still shaking off sleep. "Are we leaving straight away?"

"No, we have a few things to do before we set out," Fili said, rummaging around in his pack. Lizzy was startled when he suddenly tossed a small coin purse at her and she caught it clumsily. "Would you mind seeing to breakfast while we get ready?"

"Sure, what would you like?" she said. She had already used the bathroom (taking advantage of the warm water for a quick, though unsatisfactory wash) and was packed and ready, eager to meet Gandalf and go home, whereas the brothers were still wandering around barefoot.

"Bacon and eggs?" Kili suggested, stifling a yawn.

"Sausages too, if you can."

"Knowing Hobbit's appetites I am sure that's possible," she quipped, shouldering her pack and leaving the room. She headed down the main hall to the small parlour they had eaten in the night before and rang the hand bell. Moments later the little landlady appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.

"You're up and about early," she said rightly, since Fili had woken them at barely the first hint of dawn. "Travelling far today?"

"Hobbiton, I believe," Lizzy said, wondering if they had woken her with all their clattering around the room. Dwarfs were certainly not the most soft-footed race.

"Lovely area," she said. "I suppose you will be wanting some breakfast?"

"Yes, bacon, sausages and eggs for the two Dwarves, and I would like some toast and tea, please."

"'twill be ready in ten minutes," the lady said smilingly.

Lizzy settled down at the table to wait, fruitlessly checking her phone again to see if she had signal, not really expecting that she would. She found herself wondering once again how her brother was, whether he had told their parents that she was missing. A thought suddenly occurred to her: maybe this would work like Narnia, in which years could pass and she would return to the same moment. She hoped so, she didn't want her family to worry.

Fili and Kili appeared moments before the food did and ate with gusto. Breakfast came with butter and strawberry jam which she liberally spread over her toast, enjoying the seeded bread as opposed to the supermarket white her mother bought. She finished quickly while the Dwarves had seconds, her fingers curled around the teacup, appreciating the warmth.

"So what are these things that need doing before we get started then?" she asked, sipping the sweet tea.

"I want to find a smith to get my weapons sharpened and we need to find someone selling a few ponies," Fili said.

"Ponies?"

"Aye, we will need them for the rest of the journey," Kili said around a mouthful of food. He quickly swallowed and continued. "The chances of us being able to buy over a dozen ponies from one village are quite slim – ow!"

Apparently Fili had just kicked him under the table. "What was that for?"

"I don't think we should discuss our business beyond meeting Gandalf," Fili said pointedly, his head tilted towards Lizzy.

She smirked behind her teacup, knowing far more about their business than they did.

Kili looked chastened, but quickly rallied. "So, want to come with me to look for ponies?"

"Sure," she said.

"Can I interest you three in a second breakfast?" the landlady said, approaching the table.

"No, thank you," Fili said. "If you could tell us the whereabouts of a nearby farm possibly selling some ponies though, we would be grateful."

Ten minutes later she found herself walking to the edge of the village with Kili while Fili went off in search of a blacksmith. There were a couple Hobbits up and about and she saw more than a few families enjoying a leisurely breakfast in their gardens. They found the farm they had been directed to and she waited off to one side, leaning against a fence while Kili inspected the prospective ponies, looking at their hooves and teeth. The cows in the field were apparently curious about her, coming to peer over the fence. She reached out to touch one of them and it tried to lick her hand; she laughed, avoiding its long tongue.

After several long minutes, during which the cows had lost interest in her and wandered off, Kili rejoined her leading three shaggy ponies complete with saddles, one grey and two brown.

"What do I need a pony for?" she asked quizzically as one of the browns nudged her and snuffled her hand. "Hopefully Gandalf will be able to send me straight home."

"We can give it to one of the others and it means you will be able to keep up on our way to Hobbiton," he explained. "Ever ridden before?"

"I had a couple of horse-riding lessons as a child, but I quickly gave up."

"What made you stop?" he asked, occupying himself with tying his pack to the back of the second brown pony's saddle.

"My teacher was mean," she said, neglecting to explain that she had also endured a few spectacular falls and had been discouraged. "I decided to do ballet instead."

"What's ballet?"

Lizzy grimaced at him. "A type of dance. I am going to have to explain every little reference I make to my world, aren't I?"

"Probably," he said with cheerful nonchalance. He noticed his brother approaching. "Here comes Fili."

They quickly attached the rest of their bags to the ponies and she gingerly mounted, achieving this feat with more grace than she had anticipated. The slow gait of the pony was different to the rather spirited horse she had ridden during her lessons and she found she enjoyed it more, though she did have to occasionally prod the pony into moving when it decided it wanted to stop and munch grass.

Fili was having a similar problem, his pony apparently having a taste for flowers. "I think Daisy likes you," he said when they paused for lunch, his pony investigating her hair. They'd had a productive morning, reaching the far edge of the swampy Rushock Bog and had decided to indulge in a half hour pause for some food, actually sitting down.

"You called your pony Daisy?" she asked, thinking that the name didn't quite sound like something he would come up with, with his leather coat and freshly sharpened swords.

"What's wrong with Daisy? It's a perfectly respectable name for a pony," he said, sounding mildly affronted. "Besides, she likes eating flowers."

"What have you called yours?" she said, turning to Kili, who was fiddling with his pipe.

"Cotton," he grunted. "Are you going to name yours?"

"I don't know." She was pensive for a while, considering various potential names. The first one she thought of was Shadowfax, having always loved the name, but decided against it in case Gandalf recognised it. Peguses was also discarded, being far too grandiose for the little brown pony. "What about Binky?" she put to the brothers, naming Death's horse from Pratchett's books – she wanted some sort of link to her world, even in this small way.

"Binky, I like it."

Having finished lunch she remounted the newly christened Binky and they headed onwards. The afternoon was passed in a similar way to yesterday, with the theme of today's questions being about her family and life. She told them about her parents and her two brothers, one older and married and the younger brother she had inadvertently left in New Zealand. In return they told her a little about their lives in Ered Luin, how they had worked as metal smiths and been trained in weaponry.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached Hobbiton. Much like Nobottle, lots of Hobbiton was made up by low stone houses, with the hill rising above the village. Fili and Kili explained that they were looking for a house with a mark on the door, which she already knew. She also knew that the house could be found at the top of the Hill, but couldn't point this out without revealing her knowledge. Instead, she had to patiently follow the brothers as they led their ponies from one end of the village to the other, never once stepping onto the Hill.

"Are you sure this is the right village?" Kili said eventually.

"Yes."

There was a long pause. "Are we lost?"

"No," Fili said, disgruntled. "I am just not sure where we are going."

Knowing that she couldn't simply tell them where Bilbo's house was, she decided to take the initiative and make a show of asking for directions. Lizzy snagged a passing Hobbit by the shoulder. "Excuse me, could you please tell us how to get to Bag End?"

"Straight up to the top of the Hill, highest point of the village. Big green door, can't miss it," the Hobbit said helpfully.

"Thank you," and then smiled teasingly at the brothers. "Problem solved."

Kili's face now matched his brothers disgruntled expression "We could have figured it out, you know."

Lizzy rolled her eyes – men and asking for directions, some things don't seem to change no matter what world you're in. "Sure you could. Come on, let's go."

They headed up the Hill, Lizzy leading the way. Behind her, she heard Fili say in a low voice to his brother 'how did she know to ask for Bag End?"

_Opps_, she thought.

* * *

**Thanks for all the reviews I've received so far, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story! Keep 'em coming, reviews and constructive criticism welcome :) **

**You can also follow any updates and ask questions on my tumblr, ****_Kindle-the-Stars_**


	3. The Unexpected Party

"**It doesn't matter where you come from, it matters where you go. No one get's remembered for the things they didn't do."**

_**Frank Turner, Peggy Sang the Blues**_

* * *

Far away to the east of Hobbiton, over high mountains and green woods, a small group of heavily armed people waited anxiously in a clearing. They were standing too close together, almost huddled for protection, their eyes nervously scanning the trees.

A white shape emerged soft as a ghost from the gathering dark, followed by numerous others. The group was quickly surrounded, both the wargs and the orcs eyeing them like the meat that they were. Despite a few snarls from their mounts the orcs did not attack, waiting in silence.

The group had shrunk tighter together as the orcs approached, then one of them was pushed reluctantly forward to speak, clearing his throat uneasily. "They will be travelling in the wilderness between Ered Luin and the Misty Mountains over the next few weeks," he said in a quavering voice; he felt horribly guilty about the message he had to relay, but in doing so their master had bought their peoples safety from the Gundabag raids. "It will be a small company, not heavily armed. Should be easy enough for your ... _people _to track."

Azog gave him a slow, evil smile, the metal claw of his truncated arm trailing softly over his wargs fur. "Tell your master that the Dwarf King's head will be mine," he said in a low and guttural voice, speaking broken Westeron. At his signal the other wargs moved in closer, making the company clutch their weapons in white-knuckled hands. "We have far to travel and our mounts are hungry ... it only takes _one_ to deliver a message."

* * *

They tied their ponies in Bilbo's garden alongside two others and approached the round door, Gandalf's mark glowing clear in the moonlight. Fili and Kili had not asked her how she knew the name of Bag End, much to her relief, but they were shooting her surreptitious looks as Kili rang the bell.

Moments later Bilbo answered the door and Lizzy couldn't help but grin at his thoroughly put out expression, clearly wishing that they were miles away.

"Fili."

"Kili."

The two brothers looked at her in unison, waiting for her to introduce herself too. "And Lizzy."

"At your service," the brothers finished with a low bow in Bilbo's direction. Lizzy simply gave an awkward half wave.

"You must be Mr Boggins!" Kili said cheerfully as he straightened up, making her roll her eyes amusedly at his enthusiasm.

"No, you can't come in, you've come to the wrong house," Bilbo said firmly, trying to shut the door in their faces.

"What?" Kili said with mild panic, catching the closing door on his hand and pushing it wide again. "Has it been cancelled?"

"Nobody told us," Fili put in, giving the bewildered Bilbo a serious look.

"Cancelled?" he repeated, sounding confused. "No, nothing's been cancelled -"

"Well that's a relief!"

"Man, this is surreal," Lizzy muttered to herself as the three of them pushed their way into Bilbo's house – meeting Fili and Kili had been one thing, but seeing stuff from the story actually playing out in front of her was just plain _weird_.

"Careful with these, I just had them sharpened," Fili was saying, loading up Bilbo's arms with his numerous weapons.

The Hobbit noticed her gazing curiously around his home and frowned slightly at her. "You're not a Dwarf," he said to Lizzy, looking up into her face. He was at least half a foot shorter than her, though slightly taller than a few of the other Hobbits she had seen in the Shire.

"Nope," she said, taking pity on him. "Sorry to barge in like this."

"That's ... quite alright,"

"Can I please use your bathroom?" she added with a sunny smile.

"Uh, yes," he said, seeming to not quite know how to react in the face of her politeness. "Straight down the hall."

"It's nice, this place," Kili said as he returned from his brief exploration down one of the corridors, his eyes focused on the beams supporting the roof. "Did you do it yourself?"

"No, it's been in the family for years – that's my mother's glory box, can you please not do that," he added as Kili started scraping the mud from his shoes.

"Fili, Kili, give us a hand," a deep voice said from the other room. A Dwarf she recognised as Dwalin emerged from under an archway, clapping Kili on the shoulder, followed by a white haired dwarf she guessed was Balin.

"Mr Dwalin," Kili said with a smile, clasping the Dwarf's arm. Dwalin was bald but with an impressive beard and about an inch or so taller than Kili. Lizzy found herself disgruntled that so far Balin seemed to be the only Dwarf she was taller than despite being human, though it was a nice change from constantly having to crane her neck to look up at people back in her world.

"Who in Mahal's name are you?" Dwalin said, noticing her.

"Lizzy," she introduced herself. "Friend of Fili and Kili's."

There was a deafening silence.

"Boys ..." Balin said with stern disapproval.

"Not what you think." Kili had his hands raised with his palms outwards in the universal sign of innocence.

"We found her on the road," Fili quickly explained. "She's looking for a Wizard to help her out with a … slight problem. We told her we were meeting one tonight and that she could join us."

"A Wizard, what Wizard?" a heavily laden Bilbo asked, though he was ignored.

The two older Dwarves did not look impressed, so Lizzy decided to escape the situation and allow the brothers to sort out without her hovering around. "Right, Dwalin is giving me the stink eye, so I'll leave you to explain," she said. "I'm going to go find Bilbo's bathroom."

"What's this about then?" she heard Dwalin ask gruffly as she headed down the hallway towards where Bilbo had pointed. "And help us shift this table while you explain, or we'll never fit everyone in."

"Everyone?" she heard Bilbo squeak. "How many more are there?"

Lizzy located the bathroom, dumped her pack on the floor and bolted the round door behind her, leaning against it with a sigh. The bathroom was warm and cosy and, while certainly not as modern as the plumbing she was used to, had infinitely better facilities than simply squatting behind a tree. There was even a huge copper cauldron over a fire with a tap to fill the bath; discovering a vast quantity of deliciously hot water inside, she opened the tap and started filling the tub.

She examined her reflection in the large mirror above the sink for the first time since arriving in Middle Earth. Her hair, still tied up in a bun, looked like a rats nest and her clothes were dusty and yet she still looked the same. It was strange, she half expected to find some change, an indelible trace on her features that reflected the emotional turmoil of the past few days, but her face remained unchanged – same grey eyes, same faint freckles and the same hair that couldn't decide if it wanted to be blonde or brown.

She rooted through her pack while the bath was running, looking for the changes of clothes. There were two changes of underwear and socks, one bra, another t-shirt and a light blue cotton dress that she had been planning on wearing to the barbeque. She also found her comb and travel toiletries, her brother may have the toothpaste, but she luckily had their two-in-one lime showergel and shampoo.

The bathwater had turned to a trickle as the cauldron drained so Lizzy quickly stripped off her clothing, leaving it in an untidy pile, and stepped into the water. She allowed herself a few minutes to simply relax, but hearing the loud noises of Dwarves down the hall soon started scrubbing away the dust from two and a half day's travel.

Someone thumped on the door. "Gandalf's here," she heard Fili call.

"Will be out soon!" she hollered back, dunking her head the water to rinse the bubbles in her hair. Stealing two towels from a rack by the bath, she wrapped one around her hair and one round her body, drying quickly and donning fresh underwear before putting her cargo trousers back on with the clean t-shirt. It took her a good few minutes to work through the tangles in her hair alone, but she soon emerged from the bathroom rubbing the excess water from ends of her long hair with the towel.

It was organised chaos outside, with numerous Dwarves flooding the area between the pantry, kitchen and dining room, bringing a heavy supply of food. Bilbo was standing in the middle of the fray, alternately scolding them for taking his food, entreating them to put certain things back and telling them not to use his antique chairs, doing his very best to sound assertive. "Those are my best guest towels!" he said in dismay to Lizzy when he noticed her, the sight of the damp material clearly adding to his distress.

"Sorry," she said, only just noticing the elaborate embroidery on the towel she was using.

"Did you use my bathwater too?" the Hobbit asked, looking mournfully at her clean hair. "I was going to have a nice long bath after dinner, but ..." he sighed deeply, "this is not how I planned to spend my evening."

She was saved from replying by a friendly hand clapping on her shoulder and turned to find a smiling Dwarf that she was easily able to identify as Bofur by his winged hat. "You must be the other-worldly wraith Fili and Kili found."

"Which one of them called me a wraith?" she asked, not liking the descriptor at all. "I think I want to hit them."

"Ha, I like that – you have some spark!" Bofur laughed, and then guided her through to the dining room, receiving curious looks from several of the others. "Come, I believe you were looking for Gandalf. He is through here."

The tall wizard was supervising the laying of the table, giving directions to Dwarves setting out various plates and bowls of food as he topped up a glass of wine the size of a shot glass. He looked up when she entered. "Ah Miss Darrow, I'm glad you could make it."

Lizzy blinked at him. "... Make it?"

"Gentlemen," Gandalf said, speaking louder to the Dwarves who were in the dining room and following the conversation so far with interest. "I'd like to introduce you to the newest member of the company, Miss Elizabeth Darrow."

"_What?"_

"I'm sorry I was not able to meet you in person upon your arrival, I had business elsewhere," he said, ignoring her shocked outburst. "I thought Fili and Kili would adequately be able to guide you here in my stead."

The Dwarves gazes all swivelled to where Fili and Kili were standing, looking equally stupefied as Lizzy. "Don't look at me, I don't know what's going on," Kili said defensively.

"Wait, you're the human advisor for our quest?" Fili said, apparently picking up the implications of Gandalf's comment quicker than the others.

"Indeed," Gandalf confirmed. "I have bought Miss Darrow a considerable distance so that she can aid our quest – from another world, in fact."

"_You have bought?"_ Lizzy repeated, her voice rising to a screech. Regaining what little composure she had left, she folded her arms and glared at the Wizard. "Gandalf. A word outside. _Now."_

She turned on her heel and stalked towards the front door, fully expecting the Wizard to simply follow her. He quickly joined her in Bilbo's garden, taking a seat on a small cushioned bench down a few steps from his front door and pulled out his pipe. Lizzy remained standing, too full of nervous energy to even think about sitting.

"Gandalf," she said sternly when the Wizard showed no signs of explaining himself, rubbing his fingers to create a small flame to light his pipe. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

He took a long pull from the pipe stem and contentedly blew a smoke ring out over the garden.

"_Gandalf,"_ she all but shouted.

"Yes, my dear girl?"

"Did you bring me here?" she asked simply, wanting to confirm this point.

"Yes."

"Why?"

There was a long pause in which Gandalf was occupied in blowing an intricate smoke horse to gallop through the lazily expanding ring – she was far too on edge to be impressed by this feat. "As I said inside, I was rather hoping you would join us on our little expedition."

"No."

"No?"

"_No,_ send me back right now," she demanded.

"I am afraid that is simply not possible," The Wizard said congenially, sounding distinctly unsympathetic to her demands.

"I don't believe you, if you can bring me here then you can send me home just as easily," she said logically.

"Oh certainly," Gandalf agreed. "But it will take me several weeks to devise such a complex spell, there are numerous factors to be considered in the mechanics of such an endeavour. One wrong incantation and you could be years away from when you left."

"Several _weeks_?" Lizzy squeaked. "But I can't -"

"Yes, you can. And in the meantime, you are the perfect person to join our company."

She folded her arms over her chest once more and gave him a sceptical look. "And what makes you think that?"

Do you not remember our last conversation?" Gandalf said, irritatingly answering a question with a question of his own.

"We haven't met before," she said with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, my dear, we have."

"I think I would remember."

"I looked rather different at the time. It was in the charming bookshop you worked at."

Lizzy thought for a long moment, the memory of an August day a few months ago stirring. "You're the old man I spoke to about The Hobbit ..." she said slowly, and then sat down next to him, uncrossing her arms, pressing her lips together and giving the Wizard an annoyed look. "Grey fedora, nice touch."

"I am glad you think so," he said smilingly, touching the brim of his pointed grey hat. "Do you remember what we discussed?"

"... The ending?"

"The idea of Dain as King Under the Mountain does not sit well with me. The Dwarves of the Iron Hills are a strange, grim folk," Gandalf said, all business now. He gave her a serious look, his eyebrows bristling. "Something is wrong in this story and I believe you are meant to help me fix it."

"You've read the book, you know the future," she said, frowning at him. "Why do you need me?"

"Ahh, but I _cannot _predict what will happen," he corrected her. "You are a part of this tale now and that means everything will change."

"What do you mean?"

"The future is not set in stone, not even printed in a book," the Wizard said. "The story you know is but one possible outcome among many – even in your world there are several different versions of this tale, and there are others in different worlds. There are versions of the tale in which Bilbo will kill the dragon, in which there is no battle, a version in which the Dwarves smoke rather questionable pipe weed and even numerous instances of a female joining the company."

Lizzy scowled at him, not really having considered that the versions of the story she knew were potentially inaccurate. "I do believe you are referring to fanfiction with that last one – and I am pretty sure I heard about one called Fifty Shades of Thorin, are you seriously trying to tell me that _that's_ a possibility too?"

"Perhaps not, but my point still stands," Gandalf allowed. "No one can accurately predict how events will unfold with you in the equation."

"Events will not _unfold _in any way because I am not going to do this – I don't _want _to do this," she said, a hint of despair entering her tone. "I don't know the first thing about fighting or dragons or living in the wild!"

"As I understand it, you were travelling in the wild when I transferred you to Middle Earth."

"Kidnapped, is the word you're looking for," she said acidly. "And I was _backpacking_! A rural hike to a campsite with tents and running water, even wifi! Hardly roughing it in the wilderness!"

"The fact remains that you are exceedingly well equipped for this journey," Gandalf pointed out.

"_Bloody_ convenient, that," Lizzy snorted, thinking of her pack filled with useful things like clothes, a compass, a lighter and a first aid kit.

"And as for fighting skills, they can be learned on the road."

Lizzy looked at him, noticing how deadly serious he was – and the scary thing was that she was beginning to consider the idea. "What about my family, my friends? And my little brother, he's now all alone in New Zealand. They are going to think I am missing."

"Not if you are returned to the precise time and spot in which you left."

"Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Will you do that?" she pressed.

"Will you come with us?" he retorted and, seeing her hesitation, added, "it was my understanding that you wanted to see Middle Earth."

"I do," she said, having rather enjoyed her two days with Fili and Kili, getting to see the Shire and meet Hobbits.

"More than anything," he added again.

"I _did,_ but ... God, what if I accidently mess everything up?" she said, thinking about the sheer responsibility she was on the brink of accepting. "What if I change everything?"

"You will change some things, such actions are inevitable – indeed, I _want _you to change some things," Gandalf said, refilling his depleted pipe with more pipe weed from a small pouch and lighting it again. "But as for messing things up, as you put it, I can promise that you won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because your presence here in Middle Earth is like the wind in the trees, Miss Darrow," he said, smoke wreathed around his head. "You may stir the branches, even knock loose a few leaves, but the tree itself remains untouched."

"Very poetic," she huffed, distinctly unimpressed with his metaphor.

"But ..."

She sighed at the Wizard. "A but, of course there is a but."

"It would not be wise to bandy about the fact that you have potential knowledge of the future," he said, a hint of warning in his voice.

"Right," she agreed, wondering how he expected her to change things when she wasn't allowed to tell people.

Someone cleared their throat from behind them and they both turned to see Fili and Kili loitering by the open door. Gandalf touched her shoulder briefly. "And now I am going to see how our host is getting along," he said, excusing himself. "I'll leave you three to talk. Don't be long, dinner will be ready soon."

Lizzy gave the boys a slightly strained smile and they came over to join her on the bench, sitting on either side of her. There was silence for a long moment, then she sighed and put her head in her hands: despite her vast knowledge of the story, it had only just occurred to her that Fili and Kili could die, and indeed they would if she couldn't do as Gandalf asked. It was a sudden and very overwhelming responsibility that left her shaken.

"Are you alright?" Fili asked softly.

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kili said in a similar tone to his brother.

"No," she repeated, her voice muffled by her hands. Could she really do this, go with the company and try to change things? Did she really have a choice?

"You know, something's been bothering me," Fili said with the air of one trying to change the subject.

Lizzy sighed once more and lifted her head from her hands, leaning back against the wood of the bench. "Do tell."

"When you asked for directions earlier you knew to ask for Bag End," he said, his voice neutral and completely devoid of any accusation.

"I heard you saying it the other day," she lied without missing a beat.

"We didn't know the name of the house."

"You also seemed to know who we were when we you first met us, asking if we were acting out a story," Kili put in. "And you used Mr Baggin's first name when talking about his bathroom."

Lizzy said nothing.

"We heard the end of your conversation, about changing things and knowing the future," Fili said, looking intently at her.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" she retorted, staring down at her hands.

"Lizzy," he said quietly. "What's going on?"

She sighed again. "Any chance you two will just drop this?"

They both shook their heads – _oh well, _she thought_, so much for keeping things a secret, that lasted all of thirty seconds._

"Didn't think so," she said in response to their head shakes. "Okay, but you have to _promise _that you won't tell anyone about what I am about to tell you – not the company, not Thorin and certainly not Gandalf." The brothers looked a little hesitant at the idea of keeping something from their uncle, but nevertheless indicated their agreement. "In my world this is also one of the stories I was telling you about, you're all characters," she explained. "I told you I have been thrown into a fictional world, but I am actually _in _a story at the moment."

"We're part of a story?" Fili repeated, not really sounded all that surprised – it was probably the reason they had anticipated for her behaviour. "What about?"

"The company's journey to Erebor," she said, wondering just how much she could feasibly give away.

"We succeed then?" Kili smiled.

She smiled sadly back at him, still perturbed by her recent realisation. "Gandalf bought me here to change a few things."

"Like what?"

Her wan smile widened a little at his enthusiasm. "_Spoilers_," she said, channelling River Song.

"But you do know things that will happen?" Fili wanted to clarify.

"Hence my role as advisor, apparently."

"So you're coming with us?" he wanted to know.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Looks that way."

Kili grinned at her, leaping to his feet. "Come on then, let's introduce you to everyone," he said, and she allowed Fili to pull her up by her arm and lead her back inside.

* * *

Having had the immense privilege of knowing her all of two days the Dwarf brothers had appointed themselves as her introducers to the company, practically dragging her into the dining room and personally seeing to it that she met every Dwarf in the house. Most of them were polite enough at first, taking her hand and bowing over it with many an 'at your service, Miss Darrow' – Ori blushed, Dwalin scowled, Bofur and Bombur beamed, Dori looked disapprovingly at her clothing and Oin asked her to repeat her name, but when Kili announced that she was indeed definitely coming with them almost all the smiles dropped from their faces.

"Thorin is not going to like that," Balin said and there were nods around the room.

"You can leave Thorin to me, Master Dwarf," Gandalf said, ducking his head as he came into the room. "I handpicked Miss Darrow for this task myself and she has something very unique to offer this company."

"Gandalf, this quest is no place for a woman," Dwalin rumbled, looking thoroughly unimpressed with her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she bristled, rather offended.

Gandalf touched her shoulder lightly, silently asking her to stand down. "In the world where Miss Darrow is from women are treated as absolute equals to men," he explained to the Dwarves. "Unless you wish to be on the receiving end of her ire, I suggest that you do not imply that her being a woman is a problem."

"Nevertheless, I think I have to agree with my brother," Balin said, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "Women generally stay protected at home, only travelling in great need. We cannot promise you will be safe, lass."

"In fact you can probably guarantee that I _won't_ be," Lizzy said directly, her hands thrust deep in her pockets. "You can trust me when I say that I know _exactly _what I am signing on for, I know this is no simple walking holiday."

"Aye," Balin agreed, and then seemed to think of something. "Speaking of signing, I shall have to change all the pronouns in your contract before you sign it, it was not drawn up with a woman in mind."

"We can sort such matters later," Gandalf said, gesturing to the table. "I believe the food is ready."

They all sat down, Lizzy beside Gandalf at the opposite end of the table to Fili and Kili, and soon everyone started merrily passing round dishes, loading plates up high. There was no ceremony to the meal, everyone digging in, tossing bits of food across the table to others and talking loudly. Lizzy sat largely quiet, feeling the faint awkwardness of being the only stranger in a room full of good friends and only really speaking when someone addressed her.

Fili had clambered inelegantly over the table to get more ale and passed them around. Lizzy had a tankard thrust into her hand but didn't join in the drinking competition, only taking a few sips as the Dwarves downed their drinks. Nori and Ori started belching, much to the amusement of the others, so Lizzy swallowed a small amount of air and burped herself – no way near as impressive or loud as the others, but still audible.

She received several shocked looks from the Dwarves and simply shrugged in response. "What? I've got two brothers, I've participated in my fair share of burping competitions."

Bofur, who was sitting next to her at the head of the table, laughed uproariously and whacked a hand on her back, almost sending her face first into her plate. "I think she's going to fit in just fine amongst us, lads!" The table erupted with laughter, even Dwalin cracking a smile, and several of them toasted her with her tankards. Lizzy couldn't help but grin.

The meal finished slowly, with several of the Dwarves drifting back into the kitchen to look for after dinner snacks and drink refills while others remained at the table. She could hear snippets of conversation and Bilbo berating Gandalf for the state of his home. Lizzy pushed her plate away with a deep sigh. "Oh god, I'm stuffed," she said, placing her hands over the slightly protruding bulge of her normally flat tummy. "I swear, Hobbit's really do know how to eat."

"Don't get used to it, lass, we won't get food like that on the road," Bombur said mournfully from the end of the table, currently helping himself to his fifth plateful.

"Ah, he's selling himself short," Bofur said, coming back from the kitchen with Nori and sitting back down, each of them carrying half a string of sausages. "My brother does most of the cooking and he happens to be excellent – hence his size!"

"A cook must always try the dish, otherwise how will he know if his food is good?" the large Dwarf said around a mouthful of food.

"Did you say you cooked fish?" Oin said, holding up his ear trumpet. "I didn't get any of the fish, is there any more."

"How about a little after dinner music?" Bofur suggested, ignoring Oin. He turned to Dori and Nori. "Did any of you bring your instruments?"

"Aye, but they're outside with the ponies," Dori replied. "Ori, will you go see what Mr Baggins wants us to do with the plates?"

"Guess we will have to make do then," Bofur said, twirling a fork between his fingers as Ori left to find Bilbo. Nori also picked one up and they clashed the cutlery together with a clang. Soon the other Dwarves at the table joined in and they had a merry tune going – Lizzy had the hugest grin on her face, knowing what was coming.

"A-and can you not do that," Bilbo called into the dining room, his face set in a scowl at what the Dwarves were doing with his cutlery. "You'll blunt them!"

"Ohh, do you hear that lads?" Bofur said teasingly. "He said we'll blunt the knives!"

The Dwarves started singing and soon plates were flying everywhere. Lizzy dived out of the way of one of the knives Kili threw as she headed into the kitchen, eager to see the Dwarves in action. She noticed Bilbo going round and round trying to catch flying crockery and grabbed him, pulling him to one side.

"Probably best to just leave them to it," she said as a bowl went passed her head.

"But they'll break something!"

"Look at them," she said, gesturing at the Dwarves who were moving with all the synchronisation of a dance. "Do you really think they will drop anything?"

"Yes!" Bilbo exclaimed, dashing out from under her hand and bursting into the dining room just as the Dwarves finished with a rousing chorus of "_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_ There was more laughter as Bilbo noticed the clean table and washed, neatly stacked plates, the Dwarves clearly pleased with themselves – but their revelry was interrupted by a firm knock on the door.

Everyone went quiet, the tone of the evening changing to seriousness in a heartbeat. "He is here," Gandalf said hoarsely, knowing as well as Lizzy did who had just arrived at Bag End.

There was a long silence, then the Dwarves all scrambled into motion, moving to the hallway and practically assembling in the archways. Lizzy awkwardly took a place next to Fili, a half-drunk tankard of ale still in one hand. Gandalf approached the door, pulling it wide with a faint creak, and Lizzy got her first glimpse of Thorin, King Under the Mountain.

* * *

**Yaaaaayyyy, Thorin coming next! And ... dun dun DUN ... some Thorin POV :) **

**Keep those reviews coming, they put big smiles on my face and prompt me to write more – and if you do review, answer me this: who is your favourite Dwarf and why?**

**You can also follow any updates and ask questions on my tumblr, **_Kindle-the-Stars_


	4. Conditions of engagement

"**The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."**

**Carl Jung**

* * *

It was late into the evening by the time Thorin found the Hobbit's house. Unaware that the village extended all the way up to the top of the hill, he had been leading his pony between the low houses of the main village for nearly half an hour, looking carefully at each door in case he had missed Gandalf's mark in the darkness. He eventually noticed a Hobbit couple walking back from the pub and heading up the hill. He followed them and discovered a new set of houses built into the hill itself, knowing he had found the right house when he saw nearly a dozen ponies tied up in the garden, along with the merry sound of singing coming from inside and a mark on the front door glowing clear and blue in the moonlight.

He rapped perhaps a little harder than necessary on the door, aware that they might not be able to hear him over the revelry. Silence instantly fell within the house, so his arrival had not gone unnoticed.

He was looking out over the garden and ponies, one of which was happily devouring the Hobbit's flower beds, when the door swung open with a faint creak. Turning to look inside, he saw Gandalf hunched in the passageway and his men assembled behind him. "Gandalf," he said in greeting, favouring the Wizard with a small smile and stepping over the threshold. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way – twice," he added, plucking at the fastenings on his cloak. "Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark? There is no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" a Hobbit who he assumed was Mr Baggins said, walking to the door as if to check it himself. Thorin removed his cloak and noticed Kili standing in the archway, sending him a smile in greeting. He was relieved that Fili and Kili had apparently made it to the Hobbit's home without incident given that it was their first time travelling alone – his sister, Dis, had made it very clear that she would have his head if her boys came to harm in his company.

"There is a mark, I put it there myself," the Wizard said, pushing the door closed before the Hobbit could get a good look. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin passed Kili his cloak as Mr Baggins stepped up to him. "So, this is the Hobbit," he said, folding his arms and looking down at the little man Gandalf had so strongly suggested would be essential to their success – he wondered briefly if the human advisor the Wizard had foistered on him had also arrived. "Tell me Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" Bilbo asked, sounding perturbed.

"Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?" he asked, circling the Hobbit and finding him sadly lacking in potential.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," he said with wry self-deprecation. "But I fail to see why that's ... relevant."

"Thought as much," Thorin said, pleased that his original assessment was being proved right with every word from the Hobbit's mouth. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

He smirked as his men chuckled behind him, but a lilting and strangely accented feminine voice quickly cut through the noise. "Well, you didn't recruit a Hobbit to be a fighter, a burglar would hardly be surreptitious with a bloody big axe over one shoulder."

Turning to the owner of the voice, he was surprised to find a young and very strangely dressed woman standing with his men, a tankard held loosely in one hand. She was clearly human, being taller than most of the Dwarves present, but still short for her race. She was staring at him with an unmistakable challenge in her eyes and the hint of a smile on her face. A nasty suspicion about the possible reason for her presence took root in his mind.

"And who are you?" he asked, his arms still folded.

"Ah, Thorin," Gandalf said, stepping forward to make introductions. "This is my good friend, Miss Elizabeth Darrow, who will also be joining us," the Wizard explained and Thorin's suspicion that she was their advisor was confirmed. He couldn't help but wonder what on earth the Wizard was playing at. "Bilbo, be a good host and get Thorin some stew, won't you?"

"You failed to mention that your proposed advisor was a woman," he said to Gandalf as the Hobbit left, still not having broken his gaze from the girl's ash-grey stare.

"Is that a problem?" she said, arching one eyebrow.

"We shall have to see." He looked her up and down, from her damp hair to her sturdy looking boots, giving her the same assessment he had given Mr Baggins. She would be considered very tall for a woman by Dwarf standards but lacked their strength and breadth, her slender figure eminently unsuitable for travel in the wilderness. She looked fragile, like he could knock her aside with a single sweep of his hand. "Have you travelled before?"

"Probably further than you," she retorted back instantly.

"You think so?"

"I've crossed oceans and continents," she said, and he found himself reluctantly impressed by this feat until she added, "And now I guess I can add crossing between worlds to that list."

Gandalf spoke up at Thorin's look of confusion. "I feel I should explain. Miss Darrow is from another world; she was bought here by magic and has agreed to join our quest."

"Another world," Thorin repeated, thinking that this must be the reason for her highly unusual clothing – she was wearing black trousers with numerous pockets on the sides and a strange kind of short-sleeved blouse with the nonsensical words 'Pink Floyd' inscribed on the front. "Such places exist?"

"Hey, I'm as surprised as you are, buddy," Miss Darrow said, half toasting him with her tankard and taking a sip.

"If you indeed speak the truth, what interest could you possibly have in our affairs?" he asked, unclear as to why Gandalf had selected a woman from another world as their advisor.

There was a pause as she swallowed her mouthful of ale. "Academic," she said after a moment. "I studied Politics at university and what you're planning, stealing an entire mountain back from a live dragon and reasserting your kingship, would be the coup of the century."

"It seems you know a lot about our business already," he said, wondering who had revealed so much to her. Nevertheless, he felt that she had potential – more so than Mr Baggins. "Any weapons training?"

Her confidence faltered a little. "None whatsoever," she said, and he mentally took back what he had thought about her potential. "But much like Bilbo, I was not bought here to fight."

"And you think you can give us advice of consequence?"

She smirked at him, her arched eyebrows and pert nose giving her an impudent and elfin expression. "Yes, I do," she said with assurance.

Mr Baggins appeared at his shoulder, a bowl of stew in one hand. "Come, let us sit down," Gandalf said, gesturing for them to move through the archway. The Dwarves all started to head back through to the dining room, no doubt eager to get down to the business of the evening, but Miss Darrow remained where she stood, still meeting his stare firmly. Kili touched her lightly on the shoulder and she broke his gaze, following his nephews to the table. Thorin gave her back a long look as she walked away, uncertain of what to make of her.

* * *

"You shouldn't take to him like that," Kili said quietly as they took their seats at the far end of the table.

"Like what?" Lizzy asked, thinking she had behaved remarkably well: the oh-so-majestic Thorin Oakenshield had stared at her as if she were dirt on the bottom of his royal shoes, and she was certain their conversation would have gone on longer and possibly taken a less polite tone had Bilbo not returned with his food.

"Like ... you," Kili whispered. "If you want him to like you then you should maybe try a little more respect."

"Oh, I shall practice my curtsey," she hissed back, and was then forced to be silent as Dwalin asked about the meeting in Ered Luin.

She reluctantly thought that Kili had a point as the Dwarves started talking about the journey and looking at the map of the mountain: she had perhaps been a little too confrontational with Thorin, but knowing just how important Bilbo was to the quest she had found herself unable to keep quiet when Thorin had practically insulted him mere moments after arriving in his home. That said, she had felt an undeniable thrill upon meeting him – he had always been one of her favourite characters, in both the movie and the book. She vividly remembered playing The Hobbit with her brothers in the field by the back of their house when she was little and she had always played Thorin while her older brother Jamie was Gandalf and Peter was Bilbo.

Strange to think that she was now _in _The Hobbit and sitting at a table with these people, some of her favourite characters in literature.

However, having actually met him Lizzy got the feeling that while she rather liked Thorin as a _character,_ she would like him slightly less in person.

She was startled from her musings when Ori leapt to his feet. "I'm not afraid, I'm up for it!" he said, trying to appear as fearsome as possible in his knitwear. "I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksy!"

Poor Ori got a mingled response: beside her Fili called out, "good man, Ori!" but Dori had already pulled him back into his seat and started scolding him.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin said. "But we number just thirteen -"

"Fourteen," Gandalf interrupted with a nod in Lizzy's direction.

"Fourteen," Balin allowed. "And not fourteen of the best, nor brightest ... or perhaps even most suited to the task," he added with a particular look at her.

"Got something to say, Balin?" she said challengingly to the older Dwarf, but it was drowned out by exclamations of "Oi, who are you calling dim?" and "Well that's nice."

"We may be few in number," Fili said loudly, talking over the din. "But we're fighters, all of us! To the last Dwarf!"

"And you forget we have a Wizard in our company, Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" Kili said with genuine enthusiasm in the Wizards abilities, promptly sparking another argument until half the table was shouting at each other.

"Enough!" Thorin positively roared, rising to his feet – the Dwarves instantly cowed, sitting back down. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" he said rousingly, causing the Dwarves to cheer – even Lizzy felt the stirring of excitement and adventure within her heart.

"You forget, the front gate is sealed," Balin said, raining on everyone's parade. "There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf said, producing a key with a flourish of his hand.

"How came you by this?" Thorin said, his voice hushed and deep.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain," Gandalf said, presenting it to him. "It is yours now."

"If there is a key ... there must be a door," Fili said slowly.

Lizzy snorted quietly. "No shit, Sherlock."

Gandalf started explaining about the runes and the hidden door, saying how he didn't have the skill to read the map. Lizzy frowned, Gandalf had read the book, so surely he would know about the moon runes and even possibly the exact wording of the text – though perhaps that was one of the things that he had spoken about as changing depending on the version of the story.

The Dwarves were now talking about the necessity for a burglar, and Bilbo was adamantly proclaiming that he was not a thief.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr Baggins," Balin said. "He is hardly burglar materiel."

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin said, and then his eyes flickered down the table to Lizzy. "Nor women, for that matter."

"God, I thought we had been over this," Lizzy said, annoyed at the constant discrimination she was receiving from those two particular Dwarf brothers. However her comment was once again drowned out as the Dwarves all started speaking over each other once more.

"Enough!" Gandalf said, rising to his feet and speaking in a loud, power filled voice. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is! Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of a Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He sat down and addressed Thorin. "You asked me to find the fourteenth and fifteenth members of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins and Miss Darrow," he said, nodding towards her. "I assure you that Miss Darrow is vital to your success, and as for Bilbo, There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself."

Gandalf glanced at a bewildered Bilbo, and then leant entreatingly towards Thorin. "You must trust me on this."

Thorin looked down the table at her, meeting her eyes briefly once more. Lizzy, probably wisely, didn't say anything. "Very well, we'll do it your way," he rumbled, and then his gaze returned to the Wizard, speaking over Bilbo when he tried to interrupt. "Give them their contracts."

A long sheaf of parchment was pushed into Bilbo's hands and Balin looked down the table at her. "I'll give you yours later, lass. I still need to change a few things."

She simply nodded at him, still too annoyed at his earlier criticism to be properly polite. At the far end of the table Bilbo was standing to one side, reading through his contract aloud. Thorin was stooped over a sitting Gandalf, putting them at the same height, and saying something softly to the Wizard. The entire table's gazes were drawn back to the Hobbit as he started listing the possible injuries that could be sustained on the quest.

"Oh aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur said with far too cheerful seriousness.

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked, sounding genuinely concerned for the suddenly very pale Bilbo.

"Huh? Yeah, I fe ..." the poor Hobbit took a deep, puffing breath, shuffling his feet a little. "I feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace, with wings," Bofur said, standing up to lean through the archway.

"I – I – I need air," Bilbo said.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then puff!" He gestured wildly with his pipe. "You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo seemed to think for a moment, swaying on his feet.

"No," he said, and then collapsed sideways.

"Oh very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf said, moving to help the Hobbit. Seemingly feeling guilty about the affect his teasing had, Bofur helped him. Thorin took one disdainful look at the slumped Bilbo held up between them.

"I hope your woman proves to be made of sterner stuff than your burglar," he said with a pointed glance down the table at her, then sat down to resume eating.

"If either of say one word about me fainting the other day, I can promise that you will regret it," she hissed quietly to Fili and Kili, who hid their smirks behind their tankards.

* * *

Thorin joined Balin in the hallway, where he was sitting out of the way on a low chair and looking over Miss Darrow's contract. He had his small writing set on his lap and appeared to be editing parts of it.

"You haven't given Miss Darrow her contract yet," he observed, coming to stand opposite where the older Dwarf was sitting in the corridor.

"No, I needed to change a few things," Balin said, not looking up from his work. "It was not written with a woman in mind."

Thorin was silent while Balin finished his editing, scratching out and changing pronouns throughout the contract. After a few minutes he recapped his ink pot and blew a little on the parchment to dry it. The contract had been written in beautiful calligraphy and was the result of many days planning and work: now it looked spoiled with parts crossed out and rewritten.

"Kili, give this to Miss Darrow, won't you?" Balin said as Thorin's nephews passed them. Kili nodded, taking the contract and moving down the hallway, vanishing into the bedroom that the human woman had commandeered for the night. "She should not be coming," Balin mumbled with a mournful shake of his head.

"I agree, yet Gandalf is adamant," Thorin said, his gaze fixed on the door that Fili and Kili had yet to emerge from. His reluctance for her joining the quest wasn't that he doubted the woman's ability, her claims of having crossed oceans and travelled far were proof of her capability despite her lack of weapons training and his belief that a small breeze could blow her away, but rather his objection stemmed from his perceptions and principals of how women should be treated. In Dwarven culture women were protected and lavished due to their rarity, being only a third of the population. "We shall simply have to do our best to protect her from harm."

"And if we cannot?"

Thorin was silent for a moment. "If we cannot then we take solace in the fact that she chose her fate entirely of her own violation." He looked away from the door, returning his gaze to Balin. "Since Gandalf is being particularly cryptic, would you care to explain how she came to be here?"

"What Gandalf isn't telling you is that he bought her here himself seemingly for the specific purpose of joining our quest, which she didn't know of until she met him here tonight. "Balin cracked a small smile, apparently remembering the girls reaction. "Very annoyed about it she was too."

"How did she know where to come?"

"Fili and Kili found her on the road with no recollection of how she got here," he explained. "When it came out that she was from another world and wanted to get home they mentioned that they were on the way to meet a Wizard and offered to accompany her."

Thorin scowled – so much for Fili and Kili's journey being without incident.

"Don't be too hard on them, laddie," Balin said entreatingly, probably assuming that he was angry with them. "They saw the opportunity to do a young woman in need a good turn and decided to take it. They didn't mention the quest, only that they were meeting a Wizard."

"Then how did she know so much about our affairs?" he mused.

"Gandalf must have told her," Balin shrugged.

"Do you know for what purpose he wants her to join us?" he asked. It made no sense to have an advisor who had only been told about their business that evening.

"No."

He thought on what Gandalf said, about how a foresight was on him and that their quest would fail without her. "Then we must assume that the Wizard knows what he is doing."

They saw Bilbo walking down the hall from the small room he had been sitting in to recover from his fainting spell. "It appears we have lost our burglar," Balin said with a small sigh. "Probably for the best. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers ... and now a woman. Hardly the stuff of legend."

"There are a few warriors among us," Thorin said with a hint of a smile at his old friend.

"Old warriors," Balin self-deprecatingly corrected him.

"I would take each and every one of these Dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills, for when I called upon them they answered," he said with complete honesty. This company had followed him, eager and without any doubts of their abilities, whereas Dain had stalled and waxed poetic on the possibility of Thorin reclaiming his kingdom, ultimately turning him down flat in his request for military aid after keeping him tied up in negotiations for weeks. "Loyalty, honour, a willing heart ... I can ask no more than that."

Balin stood up. "You don't have to do this, you have done honourably by our people," he said, startling Thorin with his words – yes, he had given his people a new home after years of wandering the wilderness, but it was not the splendour of Erebor, the kingdom that his people deserved. "You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor."

"From my father to my grandfather, _this_ has come to me," Thorin said, holding up the key. It was a symbol: a sign that he would reclaim Erebor or perish in the attempt. "They dreamt of a time when the Dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

Balin nodded understandingly and patted his arm. "Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done."

* * *

Lizzy was in one of Bilbo's spare rooms, the entire contents of her pack strewn out over the bed. She was making two piles, trying to decide what to bring with her. In the pile of things to take she had her spare clothes, waterproof jacket and sleeping bag liner, a small first aid kit, a lighter, a Swiss-army knife that used to belong to her dad, a deck of cards, her purse, a flashlight, her shower gel and toothbrush, a comb, a water bottle and a few energy and cereal bars.

She thought about what Gandalf had said about her being well-equipped for the journey and snorted – really she couldn't be better prepared, materially speaking.

In the other pile she had her passport, phone, i-pod, the key-card to the youth hostel that she and her brother had been staying in and her New Zealand guide book. It was a wrench to leave things behind, but Fili had advised her to leave about half the bag empty for food supplies.

"What are you doing?" Fili asked from the doorway, standing with his brother.

"Trying to decide what to bring with me, I won't need it all," she said, turning back to the bed and picking up her Suduko book and pen: she thought for a moment, then tossed them in the keep pile – it would be nice to have something to do in the long evenings by the campfire.

The brothers approached to have a look at her belongings, Kili pausing to pass her a long sheaf of parchment. "What's this?"

"Your contract, Balin asked me to give it to you," he said, picking up her phone and bouncing it on his hand. "What is this stuff? We couldn't figure it out when we looked through your bag the other day."

"It's a communication device, means I can talk to people over long distances," she simplified. "And that's an music player," she added, nodding to the i-pod that Fili was examining.

"An instrument?"

Lizzy grinned. "Not quite. Here, put these in your ear." She gave each of the brothers a headphone and set the music to play the Lord of the Rings soundtrack, assuming that songs with lyrics would be a step too far.

Both of them flinched violently when the music started playing, and then they smiled almost in unison, looking thoroughly amazed. "This is incredible," Kili said.

"Why are you leaving it behind?" Fili asked, turning it over and over in his hands as he examined it.

Lizzy shrugged. "They will only work for a few hours and will probably break on the road. I figured I'll probably be coming back with Bilbo and Gandalf after the quest so I may as well leave my valuables here."

Having repacked her bag, leaving ample space for more food supplies, she sat crossed-legged on the bed and read through the contract while the brothers happily listened to her music, occasionally making exclamations of wonder. The contract was beautifully written in amazing calligraphy, though all of the 'he's had been crossed out and changed to 'she's.

In very large letters at the top were the words _'Conditions of Engagement in the role of Advisor for Thorin and Company, or in any other role they see fit, at their sole discretion from time to time.'_

The contract itself essentially boiled down to a few simple points: we take no responsibility for injuries; tell no one about this; you receive one sixteenth of the treasure but we don't have to pay you straight away and you don't necessarily get to choose.

"Oh, I see the pony is provided, that's useful – good thing too, I think Binky and I have bonded," she said, reading the part about travel expenses all being paid for, though 'luxury items' would have to be bought out of pocket. Fili and Kili ignored her, engrossed in her music.

She snorted at the bit about funeral arrangements: one of the folded addendum's at the side stated that at an additional cost they would do their best so send remains or any body parts home. She pictured a severed leg, a hand and an eyeball appearing on a random ridge in New Zealand, morbidly amused.

She was happy to sign most of the contract until she got to a bit near the bottom, which read: '_Disputes arising between the contract parties shall be heard and judged by an arbitrator of the Company's choosing, and all pleas shall be pleaded, shrewed, defended, answered, debated and judged in the Dwarvish tongue."_

"What the hell is this?" she said loudly, startling the brothers.

"Where are you going?" Fili called after her, since she had already clambered off the bed and was halfway to the bedroom door.

"To discuss my contract."

Lizzy found Thorin and Balin in the living room, Balin sitting in a chair and Thorin leaning over the fireplace. The light was flickering over his face, catching in his eyes. He looked thoroughly imposing in his brooding, yet Lizzy walked right up to the pair of them.

"Everything alright, lass?" Balin asked, noticing her first.

"Actually no, there are several parts of this contract that are going to be a problem," she said directly, the contract held in her hands. Thorin looked surprised at her comment, but nevertheless turned to listen to her, his arms folded.

"Such as?" he asked, staring her down. He was about two inches taller than her, though far more intimidating than she probably came across with his broad shoulders and sword hanging by his side.

"Out of pocket expenses for one, I only have money from my world with me," she said, refusing to be cowed by his stern expression.

One of Thorin's brows quirked slightly. "Surely gold, silver and copper retain largely the same value regardless of origin," he said, his voice low. "I am sure you can make do."

Lizzy folded her arms, unconsciously mirroring his posture, not liking his clear attempts to dismiss her with his comment. "Money in my world is mostly based on a credit system, and the money that I do have with me is paper."

"Paper?" Balin repeated, sounding stupefied at the idea.

"The out of pocket expenses largely refers to luxury travel," Thorin told her. "If you continue to look down you will find that travel expenses, meaning basic fare, are guaranteed in any rate."

"I know, I _did _read the contract," she said, two years of renting houses at university had taught her the necessity of being thorough when dealing with documents, also how to be firm in requesting alterations to contracts. "But I wanted to enquire if there was any way I could get a small advance on my share of the treasure, for any travel necessities."

"No," Thorin said simply.

"No?" she repeated, a little surprised at his bluntness. "And what do you suggest I do if I need to buy something?"

"I _suggest _that you acquire money, Miss Darrow."

"Was there anything else?" Balin asked.

"Yes, what's this about disputes being settled in Dwarvish?"

"That is part of the contract to ensure that disputes are settled in a fair and legally binding manner," Balin explained.

"It's hardly fair if I don't speak Dwarvish now, is it?" she pointed out. "Any chance I could learn the language on the road?" It would be quite the endeavour, but she had picked up French easily enough when learning it at school, and she was interested to learn about the Dwarf culture; learning the language might –

"No," Thorin said again instantly, cutting through her musings.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "No again. I was under the impression that we were meant to be _negotiating_ this contract."

"That is not open for negotiation," Thorin practically growled. "Dwarven culture is extremely private, we never share our language with those outside our race."

"And just what are Bilbo and I supposed to do if a dispute does arise?" she asked.

"In the event of a dispute you can dictate, someone will translate and speak for you," Balin said.

Finding this answer acceptable, she nodded at the two Dwarves. "Well, those are the two main points I was opposed to, I'm so glad we could come to an agreement over this," she said with forced sweetness and a pointed look at Thorin, and then sashayed out of the room without a backward glance.

She headed back towards the bedroom she had essentially taken over for the night, practically fuming – she hadn't thought her request for an advance was unreasonable, given the circumstances, but Thorin had dismissed her like she was a greedy child. "I _suggest _you acquire money," she muttered under her breath, mimicking his tone.

An idea of how she could get some money occurred to her just as she reached the bedroom, finding Fili and Kili still lounging on the bed. "How did it go?" Fili asked.

"Not great," she said, and then crossed her arms, looking at the two brothers with a sly smile, certain that they would help her. "Now then, how would you two like to make some money?"

Both of them raised their eyebrows at her, revealing their curiosity in her cryptic words.

* * *

Thorin watched her walk away from his position by the fire, the long paper of her contract trailing from her hand. She certainly had no qualms about challenging him: from her comment about studying politics and the forthright way in which she had approached them about her contract he assumed she was some kind of important political advisor in her world, despite her obvious youth.

He busied himself with his pipe as the other Dwarves slowly trickled into the main room. Fili appeared and proposed taking bets on whether or not Bilbo would join them: most of the company bet that he wouldn't, but when Gandalf placed a bet in favour of the Hobbit it tipped Thorin's opinion: he knew how persuasive the Wizard could be, and so also decided to bet in Mr Baggins's favour.

After the bets had been taken the mood of the room slowly became strained, a grim anticipation of tomorrow settling on the company. There was silence for a long time. Thinking on his homeland, Thorin began to hum, low and deep, an old melody first written after Smaug's desolation and the Dwarves fled from Erebor. One by one, the other Dwarves joined in. Thorin started to sing softly, gazing into the flames in the hearth, remembering Dragon fire in his home.

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold,  
To dungeons deep and caverns old.  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To find our long forgotten gold._

The rest of the company joined in, the song familiar to all. It was bitter sweet and mournful, mingled with hope. In singing, they remembered their dead and made a pledge to avenge them in their quest.

_The bells were ringing in the dale__  
And men looked up with faces pale;  
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire  
Laid low their towers and houses frail._

Bofur started playing his clarinet softly and Dori and Nori produced flutes, the sweet notes of the instruments weaving in with their low voices. Thorin found himself wishing for his harp, which he had been unable to bring on the journey due to its size.

_The pines were roaring on the height,  
The winds were moaning in the night.  
The fire was red, it flaming spread;  
The trees like torches blazed with light._

From the corner of his eye he saw Miss Darrow creep into the room and sit on the floor in a corner with her arms around her knees. She was listening to their music, clearly rapt. Her eyes shining in the darkness and her lips were slightly parted, her expression almost childlike in its enthralled wonder.

_The mountain smoked beneath the moon;  
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.  
They fled their hall to dying -fall  
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

They sang late into the night, all of them somehow reluctant to go to bed for fear of what morning would bring as the start of their venture. Finally, as the fire burnt down low, their singing drew to a close, marking the beginning of their journey and quest.

* * *

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	5. Wagers and debates

"**Use what language you will, but you can never say anything but what you are."**

**Ralph Waldo Emerson**

* * *

Thorin woke just after daybreak and was surprised to already hear faint voices coming from the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable tinkle of feminine laughter. He rose quickly and made the Hobbit's bed, donning his coat and boots before heading out of the spare bedroom. Passing the living room, he noticed most of the company still asleep. He cleared his throat to wake them. "We will be leaving within the hour," he announced to the room at large as several of them stirred.

Proceeding to the kitchen he found Dori, Nori and Ori all sitting around the small table with Miss Darrow eating breakfast. Bombur was at the stove cooking and Gandalf was sat in a chair in the corner, occupied with his pipe.

Thorin paused in the doorway to listen to their conversation. "This is amazing," Ori was saying, hunched over a book and flicking through with eager interest. "The letters are so strange and just look at these pictures! This is your world?"

"It's where I was travelling when Gandalf bought me here," the advisor replied, her elbows braced on the table with her fingers curled around a tea cup. "You can have it if you like, I was going to leave it behind."

Ori looked like she had given him the moon and the stars. "Really?"

"Ori, your pack is already mostly filled with journals and quills, you don't need another book," Dori said disapprovingly.

"But a book from another world!" the younger Dwarf said entreatingly to his brother. "I've never seen anything like it."

Miss Darrow laughed again and noticed Thorin in the archway. "Morning," she said cheerfully, a far more amicable greeting than he would have expected given their dispute the night before.

"You're all up early," he observed by way of greeting, coming properly into the room.

"We need to go to the village and get ponies, if there are any to be had," Dori explained. "Best be off actually, we will meet you down there."

Thorin nodded and took Nori's place at the table opposite the advisor as he stood to leave.

"Thank you for the book, Miss Darrow," Ori said smilingly, clutching a brightly coloured tome called 'A Guide to New Zealand' to his chest.

"No problem – and it's Lizzy, by the way," she corrected him, apparently preferring a shortened version of her first name. As the Dwarves left Bombur approached the table with two loaded plates, which he deposited in front of them. "Bombur, I've already had breakfast, I don't need any more," she said with a laugh.

"But you're such a skinny little thing, you look like a puff of wind will blow you away," the large Dwarf said, busying himself with adding more bacon to the frying pan.

"Thanks," she said in a dry tone.

Balin came into the room, followed by Fili and Kili, his youngest nephew still rubbing sleep from his eyes. They squeezed in at the table, which was filled to its capacity, being smaller than the one in the dining room, and Miss Darrow passed her full plate to Kili, who took it with a grunt of thanks.

"Did I hear Dori, Nori and Ori leaving?" Balin asked, helping himself to the pot of tea Dori had left on the table.

"Aye, they need ponies," Thorin said, taking care to swallow his mouthful of food first.

As he spoke Miss Darrow was rummaging around in the pack by her feet. She surfaced with the familiar contract in her hand, which she pushed across the table towards him and Balin. "You signed it," he observed as Balin checked her signature with a sigh – he knew the cause of his friends melancholy: in agreeing to the contract she had officially signed herself away until the end of their journey, or unless they found valid reason to dissolve the contract.

"Um hmm," she murmured affirmatively as she took a sip of tea.

"Is this how you sign documents in your world?" Balin asked and Thorin tilted his head to look at her signature: it simply read _E. C. Darrow_ in tiny scrawled letters.

"I can add 'Daughter of Sarah' or something equally archaic sounding, if you like," she said, a hint of patronisation in her tone.

"That won't be necessary, it all appears to be in order." Balin folded the contract and placed it in his jacket. He gave the advisor a piercing look, tinged with sadness. "I do hope you know what you're doing."

"Trust me, I do," she said firmly.

Balin shook his head slightly. "There is no need to be snappish, lass," he said in a very gentle tone, making the girl look down into her tea cup to avoid his eyes. Balin looked contemplatively at her. "You know, you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. She had the same firey temper."

"Oh? And who's that?" she asked, but Balin didn't reply as his brother and several of the others came into the kitchen looking for food.

From Balin's cryptic words Thorin assumed he was talking about his long dead sister, Catlin; she had died in the wilderness after the Dwarves left Erebor despite being a capable swordswoman. While they may indeed share the same temper, Catlin could not have been more different physically to their advisor: she had been short and broad, an excellent fighter with a vast quantity of curly brown hair on both her head and face, whereas Elizabeth Darrow was tall, with her brownish-blond hair hanging straight down her back in a simple tail.

It did not take long for the company to all eat breakfast and wash up, leaving the kitchen as spotless as it had doubtless been the night before prior to their arrival. Soon everyone was congregated in the hallway, shouldering packs and making sure they hadn't forgotten anything.

"No sign of our Hobbit," Dwalin said after a glance down the hall. He smirked at Kili. "You shouldn't have bet so high, you're going to lose."

Thorin looked up at his words, lowering his brows at his nephew. "And just how high did you bet?" he asked.

"Fili and I each bet half the gold we have with us," he said simply, swinging his bow over his shoulder.

"That is meant to last you the entire journey," he said sternly.

Kili smiled easily at him. "I have complete faith in Mr Baggins, uncle. Besides, you bet on him too."

"I did not bet half my gold," Thorin pointed out, but the issue was dropped as the company headed out of the door.

They made good time and met up with Dori, Nori and Ori, who had successfully bought ponies, as they passed through the village. Numerous Hobbit's stopped and stared at them as they passed, the sight of so many Dwarves travelling together clearly something of a novelty. It was barely mid-morning when they heard a voice behind them. "Wait!"

They halted their ponies and Thorin turned to see Mr Baggins running up behind them, the long paper of his contract streaming and flapping as he ran. "I signed it," he said proudly as he reached the company, passing it up to Balin to inspect. Thorin couldn't help but wonder if the Hobbit had actually bothered to read the contract, unlike Miss Darrow; there were surely some parts of it he was opposed to, like the Dwarves commandeering the supply of pipe weed from his house, for instance.

"Give him a pony," he said as Balin announced the contract to be valid – he couldn't decide if he was relieved the Hobbit had shown up and thus, according to Gandalf, their quest would be a success, or annoyed that he now had to put up with the ridiculous and soft little man.

The Hobbit's protests were overrun as the company moved on, with Fili and Kili quickly hoisting him onto the spare pony. Soon someone mentioned the bets and bags of coins were being tossed throughout the group – only he, Balin, Oin, Fili, Kili and Gandalf had bet in the Hobbit's favour, the rest of the company adamant that he wouldn't show up.

Fili and Kili had done the best out of the group due to their extortionate bets. Thorin noticed his nephews sharing out their winnings with a beaming Miss Darrow. He slowed his pony until he was riding beside them.

"Why are you accepting money from my nephews, if I may ask?" he said imperiously. "Because I earned it," she replied with a grin.

Thorin felt a flash of trepidation, remembering how long both boys had lingered in her bedroom the night before, worried that this woman they had invited into the company might potentially have loose morals. "How so?"

"She advised us on how to make our bets, said that Bilbo was a sure thing," Fili said with a smirk, tucking a large and merrily clanking bag of coins into his pack.

"You should listen to our advisor on this trip uncle, I think you'll find she is _full_ of surprising knowledge," Kili added with a slight wink at their advisor, and Thorin noticed Miss Darrow shoot him a pointed look of annoyance in return.

While this answer was much better than prostitution, he was still not pleased – and he was certainly not happy with the easy camaraderie she already shared with both of his nephews. He would have to watch them carefully, he realised. "I do not like the idea of you taking money from the company," he said.

"It was freely wagered by them and earned by me," she said with a shrug. "You were the one that suggested I acquire money."

"I did not intend for you to swindle my men, nor is your advice to be distributed at additional cost," he said with gruff displeasure.

"I didn't swindle them," she said in an exasperated tone. "I think you're just annoyed because you lost the bet."

"Thorin!" Gloin called from further up the procession of ponies. "Your winnings." A small purse came flying towards him which he caught easily and bounced in his hand.

"You bet on Bilbo?" Miss Darrow said, her ire inexplicably vanishing and being replaced with a smile.

"Indeed," he told her.

"Good," she said, nodding and still smiling happily. "That's good."

* * *

That night they camped near the village of Budgeford on the Bridge Fields, still within the heart of the Shire. After Lizzy had dismounted and Kili had lead her pony away with the others she had taken the time to stretch the sore muscles of her legs. Two days on a pony had not been kind to her body; first, she bent over to touch her toes briefly, then shook each leg to relieve the stiffness. Feeling slightly better, but still not looking forward to the next few days while her body adjusted to travel (as Oin had assured her it would, noticing her discomfort midway through the day) she went to help set up the camp, where the Dwarves were already making preparations for dinner.

"Bombur, can I ask you something?" she said softly as the big Dwarf spooned an extra large portion of stew into a bowl for her from the pot over the fire – he seemed determined to fatten her up, constantly clucking like a mother hen about how skinny she apparently was. It was about an hour or so after they had made camp and darkness was truly beginning to fall.

"Of course, lass."

"It's about your cousin, Bifur," she said, unsure of how to phrase her question – the gruff and uncommunicative Dwarf had been the only one of the company that she hadn't spoken to yet. "I've noticed that he doesn't talk much. Does he – umm ..."

Bombur seemed to understand what she was trying to ask. "It's a result of his injury, got an orc axe in his head in the Battle of Azanulbizar," he said, unoffended by her curiosity. "The healers say that it could kill him to remove it. He has spoken broken Khuzdul ever since."

"But he understands English?"

Bombur looked confused. "What is this _en-gleesh_ you speak of?"

"What do you guys call it here ... umm, the common tongue?" she corrected herself.

"Oh aye, he understands you well enough if you talk to him, lass," Bombur said with an easy smile once he understood her.

"Right," she said, still lingering with her bowl of stew probably rapidly cooling in her hands. "And I've noticed that he talks with his hands a lot."

"It's called the Iglishmêk," Bombur explained. "It's a secret Dwarven language used to communicate, sometimes it's hard to hear over the sound of a forge or mining, so we use gestures and -" Poor Bombur abruptly closed his mouth, looking guilty. "I probably shouldn't have told you all that," he said worriedly, glancing over to where Thorin was sitting.

Lizzy tapped her nose, indicating that she would keep it a secret. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

* * *

The next morning she found a small stream and washed her face and hands, the cold water doing an excellent job of waking her up. Having grabbed her comb from her bag she ran it quickly through her hair, which hung a few inches past her shoulders, and then tied it back up and out of the way again. She remembered not to squat behind a tree, having been told off by Dwalin last night: apparently the reason Fili carried a shovel was to dig a hole when they stopped to make camp, which everyone had to use as a makeshift toilet that would be buried when they moved on - she and Bilbo had equal looks of horror on their faces at this pronouncement.

Walking back to the camp, she noticed Balin, Bifur and Bofur attending to the porridge pot. She went over to join them. "Morning guys," she said cheerfully.

"Morning, Miss Lizzy," Bofur said, stirring the grey mush, while Balin nodded his greeting.

Bifur simply grunted and made a hand gesture that involved flicking open a clenched fist in her direction. Lizzy mimicked the gesture as best she could. "Does that mean good morning?"

Bifur gave her a surprised look, grunted again and repeated the gesture – Balin and Bofur were following their exchange with interest.

Lizzy copied it again with a smile. "Good morning, Bifur. You know, we have a similar language in my world," she explained: she didn't know much sign language at all, but she knew a few basics. "This means 'how are you?'" she said, showing him the sign.

Bifur copied it easily and Lizzy grinned at him. "I am very well, thank you Bifur. And how are you?" she asked, making the sign back.

The Dwarf gave her an unmistakable smile beneath his rather wild beard and nodded at her before moving away to eat his porridge. "A nice thing you did there, lass," Balin said approvingly.

"Aye, I think you have just made a friend for life," Bofur said, ladling a bowl of porridge for her. "The last time I saw him take such a shine to a person was when Thorin bought a barely walking Kili into our toyshop to buy a wooden sword."

She smiled at the image. "I pretty much only know how to say things like hello, yes, no, please and thank you in sign language, but do you think he would be interested in learning them?" she asked, accepting the proffered bowl. It would be nice to have a way to communicate with Bifur, even if it was just basic niceties.

"There is no harm in asking," Bofur said smilingly.

* * *

Later that day, as they crossed the Brandywine Bridge, Thorin noticed Miss Darrow riding alongside Bifur, making gestures with her hands and laughing with the toymaker. Once again, he slowed down his pony until he was level with them.

"I thought I told you that you were not to learn our language," he said severely.

"I'm not," she replied innocently. "I'm teaching Bifur here a few signs from a language in my world. Isn't that right, Bifur?"

Bifur held up one fist, moving it up and down a little, and Miss Darrow positively beamed at him. "That means yes," she said to Thorin, who was surprised: he had thought she had been learning the Iglishmêk.

"You know, I am rather curious to hear more about your world," Bofur said, having overheard their conversation.

"What would you like to know?" she asked over her shoulder.

Bofur looked bewildered for a moment. "Well ... what's it like?"

Miss Darrow tilted her head to one side as she thought, causing the long tail of her hair to cascade over one shoulder. "It's very ... advanced. Technologically speaking, we are probably at least five hundred years ahead of you guys."

"How so?"

She started talking eagerly about her world and Thorin retained his place by her side, listening with wordless interest.

* * *

Lizzy spent most of that day talking; as soon as the other Dwarves heard that she was telling Bofur about her world almost all of them had leapt in with their own questions – Ori wanted to know about books, having been reading her guide book on his pony all day yesterday and now wanted to know if there were similar books for every country, Oin asked about medicine, and even Dwalin posed a question about weaponry. Thorin remained silent by her side and she was unable to tell if the small crease between his brows was caused by interest or disapproval.

She answered their questions as best as she could, some of them with more difficulty than others – she had never really thought about how a gun worked or how to explain a defibrillator, for instance.

Their questions covered a vast spectrum, curious about the kinds of people and places and machinery. They were particularly interested in the concept of the London Underground, and she spent well over an hour telling them about trains.

However, much like Fili and Kili had been, they were sceptical about some of the more fantastical things she told them about, doubting that she could see and communicate with a person half way across the world and flatly refusing to believe anything she told them about space travel.

As such, the day passed full of conversation and laughter.

* * *

Later that night as they were camping between the Old Forest and the Barrow Downs Ori approached her shyly, his journal clutched to his chest. "Miss Lizzy, I made some notes on what you were saying earlier and I was wondering ... would you draw me something from your world?"

Lizzy took the proffered journal and charcoal stick with a small smile. "Sure – I should warn you that I am not very good though," she said, flicking the journal to a blank page. "Anything you want in particular?"

"Anything," Ori said eagerly. "Something from one of your cities or one of those machines you were telling us about."

She thought for a moment and then slowly started to sketch out as best she could the Houses of Parliament complete with Big Ben on the Thames, which was near to where she had gone to university. The drawing was not as accurate as it could be, but she took solace in the fact that they had never seen the original and so wouldn't be able to detect any flaws. Other than her slightly smudging the charcoal with her wrist as she drew, the picture didn't come out half bad.

"What is it?" Ori asked, tilting her head to see what she had drawn.

She explained that it was part of her capital city, the building where the government met to make decisions.

"Government? You don't have a King?" Ori said, surprised.

"We have a Queen, but she is more of a figurehead, she doesn't have much actual power. Parliament makes the decisions," she told him.

"But ... why?" Ori said, sounding thoroughly stupefied.

"It's a democracy, the politicians are voted in by the people" she said and looked around the camp, noticing several of the Dwarves were listening to their conversation with interest. "Do you guys not have any sort of democracy?"

"The King rules, though he has advisors," Balin said with a glance at Thorin, who was sitting on the other side of the fire to her and Ori, his head bent as he focused on running a whetstone over his sword, seemingly ignoring their conversation even though he must have been able to hear them.

"An absolute monarchy," she said softly. "It doesn't bother you that it is basically a dictatorship?"

"The King rules by divine right," Balin said seriously. "What system do you have, lass?"

Lizzy spent a few minutes telling them about political parties and how Parliament worked, able to explain it fairly eloquently having done a degree in Politics. Afterwards the group debated some ideas back and forth, some of the Dwarves interested in the idea whereas others did not like that it took power from the Queen.

"And what do you think, Thorin?" she asked, addressing the silent King opposite her.

"I think you are trying to draw me into your argument, Miss Darrow," he said without looking up from his sword. "I also think that you know my opinion will be contrary to yours."

Lizzy grinned since that was exactly what she had been trying to do. "But as King you might make decisions that people don't agree with."

"It is my right as King to rule as I see fit."

"Doesn't it bother you that your people don't have a say in how you rule?"

Thorin finally put down the whetstone and raised his gaze to hers. "I agree that having advisors voted in by the people is an intriguing idea, but I do not like the sound of your system. Your people are divided by these policies, unclear of what is right for the country because they have so many options before them. They need a King to unite them."

"They may be divided, but they are still free," she pointed out. "They have the right to choose their government."

"And those who have chosen against the majority?" Thorin questioned. "They are trapped by a government not of their own choosing, one who possibly doesn't act in their best interests."

"It is still better than a dictatorship."

Thorin shook his head. "I disagree, a King will do what is best for his country, not his – how did you put it? – political party."

Balin cleared his throat, causing both of them to break their stare and look at the older Dwarf. "I think that you two must agree to disagree on this," he said. "Both systems sound flawed, yet still both have their merits."

Thorin glanced at her and wordlessly returned to sharpening his sword, the discussion dropped for the night. Lizzy was a little put out at Balin's interference – some of Thorin's points had been interesting and she didn't like that what had promised to be the most spirited debate she had participated in since leaving university was cut short. Soon after the end of their discussion the company retired and went to sleep.

* * *

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	6. Culture shock

"**One****should never trust a woman who tells one her real age. A woman who would tell one that would tell one anything.****"**

**Oscar Wilde**

* * *

The company arrived in Bree near midday the following morning and Thorin was apparently in a good enough mood to allow them a few hours respite in the quaint town before moving on. The houses were formed of wood and stone, with beams on the front and vaulted, tiled roofs, much taller than the single story buildings that Lizzy had seen in the Shire. Hobbits and men dwelt side by side in this little town and she got her first glimpse of humans in Middle Earth – or, perhaps more accurately, the humans of Bree got their first glimpse of her.

She was stared at as they rode down the main street, no doubt due to her strange clothing: while her black cargo trousers were fairly inconspicuous, the bright red 'Gryffindor Quidditch' shirt she had layered over a long sleeved green t-shirt was most certainly not. She ignored the whispers and kept her eyes fixed on Dwalin's back as he rode in front of her. Fortunately no one commented loud enough to make out what they were saying or approached the group.

After acquiring their food supplies for the next few weeks (with Bilbo taking the opportunity to dash into a small drapers shop and buy a handkerchief) and everyone's packs were full to bursting with vegetables and sacks of flour, they stopped at The Prancing Pony for lunch.

The cooking fires had yet to be lit for the evening so the company had to make do with breads, cold meats and cheeses. Fili and Kili went to the bar and returned with numerous tankards of ale held by the handles with several in each fist, depositing them on the table and dividing them out around the group.

"Drinks are on us, we need to do something with those winnings otherwise we will be weighed down," Kili said cheerily – Dwalin grumbled a little at this, but nevertheless took the proffered tankard without complaint.

"Spend what you will, however I do not think you should be betting again," Thorin said in his usual domineering way.

"And why's that?" the younger Dwarf asked.

"For one thing, your mother would hardly approve," he said wryly.

Kili smiled at him. "Uncle, I'm nearly eighty. I think I can make my own decisions."

Lizzy promptly started choking on her mouthful of food and Oin had to whack her sharply several times on the back to dislodge it. "You're in your _seventies_? Are you serious?" she asked once she had cleared her throat and then looked around the table, stupefied. "Good _God_, how old is Balin?"

"Very old, lass," he said with a small smile. "Dwarves age differently to humans, we have longer life-spans."

"Clearly," Lizzy said, and then she smiled mischievously. "Bet none of you can guess how old I am."

"You look younger than Kili, so I'm guessing ... seventy," Dori said.

Nori shook his head. "No, if we are going to guess then we have to make it interesting. One silver piece says she's between sixty-five and seventy."

"Five coppers says she's older than Kili," Bombur put in.

Several of the Dwarves made their bets, with none of them going younger than fifty. Gandalf, Thorin, Balin, Dwalin and Bifur remained silent on the subject, meanwhile Fili and Kili looked like they wanted to join in, but probably felt that they couldn't after their uncle had 'advised' against them gambling.

"What happens to the money if none of you get it right?" she asked curiously.

"The bets are for scant pennies and span at least thirty years, if you've managed to pull the wool over our eyes and you're actually older than Gloin's guess of eighty then I think you should get the money," Bofur said with an easy smile. "You must fund your purchases of age-defying beauty ointments somehow!"

Lizzy grinned at this. "In that case, I am happy to reveal that you are all wrong – I am twenty-one."

"Twenty-one!" Fili repeated, sounding shocked. "You're a child!"

"I don't think you were listening when Balin said that humans age differently," she pointed out. "I am fully considered an adult in my world, we come of age at eighteen."

The Dwarves who had bet all pushed coins across the table towards her, none of them displaying any displeasure at being parted from their money. It was mostly coppers, but she gathered them up nevertheless and jingled them in her hand. "I am doing quite well at this acquiring money business," she said somewhat cheekily to Thorin, who was looking at her disapprovingly.

"And you don't think that counts as swindling them?" the dour King put to her.

Lizzy shrugged. "Once again, they bet entirely of their own violation." She examined the coppers in her hand and then turned to Oin next to her. "Do I have enough for a round of drinks here?" she asked, speaking slightly louder so the hard of hearing Dwarf could hear her.

"Aye lass, just about."

"Great, next round is on me then," she said with a smile and got up to go to the bar. She purchased more ale and returned to the table quicker than expected since the barman said he would bring it over for her.

As she approached she heard Thorin talking in a low voice to Gandalf. "A woman was bad enough, but she is little more than a child."

"As she said, in her world she is considered an adult," the Wizard said around his pipe.

"This is not her world. She should not be here," Thorin said firmly.

Lizzy cleared her throat to get his attention. "I can actually hear you, you know Thorin."

"I spoke no secrets," he said, unperturbed at being over heard. He looked at her appraisingly and then shook his head slightly, seeming displeased with what he saw in her. "We will start training you with a weapon as soon as possible, lest you become a liability."

* * *

Later that evening, as the company stopped to camp in the Chetwood, Fili and Kili took Lizzy to a small clearing about twenty meters from the camp. As they had ridden onwards that afternoon Thorin had 'requested' that they start teaching her how to use a weapon; the brothers were eager, seeing this as a great responsibility and a sign of their uncles trust in them. Bilbo was also offered lessons but declined, sitting with Ori by the fire instead and warming his hairy toes.

Fili handed her one of his swords with no ceremony whatsoever. It was long and heavy and its shape was clearly made for hacking movements, reminding her of a meat cleaver. She nearly dropped it instantly.

Kili drew his own sword and came to stand opposite her. "Do you know how to use that at all?" he asked, nodding to the sword that she was currently holding with its tip facing down towards the ground.

"Of course," she said with a playful smile. "The pointy end goes in the bad guys."

The boys didn't seem to understand her sarcasm. "It's far more serious than that! Lift up your sword and copy me, this is the ready position."

Lizzy copied Kili and then the brothers spent a good ten minutes correcting her stance and foot positioning. The sword, which she had to keep raised, felt unbelievably heavy as she tried to keep it held up.

"Relax," Fili told her after correcting her grip for the fifteenth time. "Keep your muscles loose and try to regulate your breathing. You won't be able to strike with any speed if you're tense."

"If I relax I am going to drop this bloody sword," she said irritably, her arm well and truly beginning to ache.

"Elbows bent and closer to your body," Kili said, prodding her into the right position.

"Move your left foot in more, your stance is too wide," Fili added too, nudging her leg with his boot – both of them were confusing her with their constant stream of demands and prompts to move her body. "Your balance is all wrong."

"Maybe my balance is wrong because this damn thing is too heavy," she said with exasperation, dropping her arm so that the sword point was just touching the ground once more.

"Come on, we were almost ready to start," Kili said, moving back and lifting his own sword up.

She sighed deeply and raised Fili's sword once more, her arm protesting. "Right, we are going to start with a few basic, slow parry's," Kili told her, and the slowly swung his sword in her direction.

Her movements were slow and sluggish. Within a few minutes of slowly going through some basic moves her arm was starting to tremble slightly. She lowered the sword once more and grimaced. "Look guys, I don't want to sound like I am giving up, but this sword is simply _too heavy_. I can barely keep it lifted, let alone swing it."

The brothers thought for a moment, with Kili scratching the back of his head. "Maybe we could try her on archery?" he suggested. "Thorin didn't specify what kind of weapon to train her in."

Fili squinted at the sky. "We don't have the light at the moment, we can start tomorrow," he said, taking the sword back from Lizzy.

"Archery, right," she said, liking the idea far better than sword fighting – archery was always cooler in the movies anyway. "That sounds good, I don't think I would be much of a swords woman."

"Have you ever done _any_ kind of fighting before?" Kili asked.

"Nope."

"None at all?"

"I used to play wrestle with my brothers." Lizzy thought for a moment. "And I slapped my ex once."

"What's an ex?" Fili wanted to know.

"An ex-boyfriend." The brothers still looked stumped. "An old lover."

Lizzy didn't even notice the deep blushes and looks of shock that spread across their faces. "I'm going to go find that stream we got water from earlier and wash up a little before dinner, I'll see you guys back at the camp."

She headed to the stream and had a quick wash – she was trying her best not to be too fastidious when it came to bathing, knowing that there weren't many opportunities to do so when travelling in the wild. Most of the Dwarves had probably yet to even touch water for washing since leaving Bag End, but she still took advantage of water and privacy when she could find it, if only to freshen up a little.

Night had truly fallen by the time she got back to the camp and she tripped her way through the trees, unable to see roots in the darkness. Everyone had been talking in low voices, but when she arrived they abruptly went silent and all stared at her.

"What?" she said confusedly, stopping in her tracks and looking down at her top to make sure she was decent. "Why is everyone looking at me funny?"

Bombur cleared his throat and passed her a bowl of stew. "No reason lass."

She sat down to eat but the Dwarves were still shooting surreptitious looks at her and murmuring to each other. "Okay, _what?"_ she asked again, beginning to get annoyed.

Everyone avoided her eyes. Eventually Fili cleared his throat awkwardly. "You mentioned an old lover earlier."

"Yeah, so?" she said around a mouthful of piping hot stew.

"Is that ... common in your world?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me ..." Lizzy said, slowly putting her mostly uneaten stew down and looking around at the company. "Are you guys seriously freaking out because I had a boyfriend? Yes, that type of thing is very common in my world, people have relationships all the time."

"But you aren't married, it's ... _indecent_," Dori said, looking thoroughly disapproving.

"Look, my world is clearly very different to this one," she said practically, not liking the way that they were taking this at all. "In my world I've don't nothing wrong in being in a relationship, you shouldn't judge me by standards that don't apply to me."

"Is there -" Ori started to say, but quickly cut himself off and looked down at his toes.

"Is there what?" she wanted to know.

"Is there no shame in children being born out of wedlock in your world?" he asked timidly.

"Oh god," she said softly, putting her head down to rest on her knees and wishing she didn't have to have this conversation. "Oh _god_, I am actually going to have to explain contraception to Dwarves."

"What's contraception?" she heard Oin ask from beside her.

"I can't believe this, weirdest moment of my life right here," she said to her knees. This even beat the time one of her university housemates had gotten high and started naming all the furniture in their house, giving everything its own distinct personalities and having conversations with them.

"Okay," she rallied, sitting up straight again. "Contraception is ways in which you can ... um, enjoy a relationship without getting pregnant. No babies unless you want them."

Most of them looked highly confused and several faces were tinged with red – Gandalf was keeping out of the entire conversation and Thorin's face was half in shadow, so she couldn't tell what he thought. They looked no closer to understanding her.

Lizzy sighed and rolled up her sleeve to just above her elbow. "Oin, poke my arm."

"Um, Miss Darrow -"

"Lizzy," she corrected him - the poor deaf Dwarf was probably wondering if he had heard her properly when she asked him to poke her. "And just do it, right there."

Oin cautiously touched her arm where she had indicated and instantly recoiled when he felt the tiny, thin tube in her arm. "There is something under your skin!"

"It's called an implant, it's a medical device that stops me from getting pregnant," she explained. It was convenient in other ways too, stopping her periods: she had kept the implant in even after breaking up with her boyfriend so that she wouldn't have to deal with her monthly problem while travelling in New Zealand. She now found herself immensely grateful that she had, the idea of being on her period with no supplies while travelling with fifteen men in the wilderness of Middle Earth was most certainly _not_ an appealing one.

Now the Dwarves were looking more disapproving than confused. "Look, I don't just sleep around!" she clarified, having noticed their expressions. "I was in a loving and committed relationship with no risk of an unwanted pregnancy, why shouldn't I have enjoyed it to the full?"

"But why didn't you two marry?" Dori asked; this seemed to be a sore spot for him.

"Because he was a jerk, I caught him sleeping with one of my so-called friends," she grimaced. "We were planning on going travelling together after uni, but that plan went to pot when we broke up. Luckily my brother said he wanted to come."

"What happened to him?" Gloin wanted to know.

"Nothing, we both graduated and haven't spoken since," she said with a shrug.

"No, I mean ... did no one fight for your honour?"

Lizzy burst into giggles at the idea of the Dwarves duelling her ex. "I am perfectly capable of standing up for myself, slapped him right in the face when I found out about him cheating on me."

"But your brothers, didn't they challenge him?" Kili questioned.

"Nooo, challenges aren't really a thing in my world," she said, still amused at the mental image of the company chasing after her ex-boyfriend with swords and yelling Dwarvish battle cries.

"So he just got away with hurting you in that way?" Fili said, looking at her pityingly.

"Look guys, there is no need to look at me like I am some poor little victim, or like I am a slut," she added with a pointed look at Dori, who was still frowning in condemnation. "My actions were perfectly normal and respectable where I come from – in fact I am sometimes considered prudish for only having slept with _one_ man."

At this the Dwarves all started murmuring to each other again, clearly not liking the sound of the morals in her world.

Thorin cleared his throat and silence fell around the camp. "I think we should leave Miss Darrow be," he said commandingly. "There are no doubt aspects of our culture that she finds ... _distasteful_. I'm sure as we learn more about each other's ways we will become more tolerant of each other."

Lizzy looked at the Dwarf King sitting separately to one side of the camp, his face still obscured by the darkness. She was almost certain there had been an insult in there somewhere. "I think that was pretty back handed – but still, thanks."

She saw the brief movement of Thorin nodding his head at her, acknowledging her thanks. After the King's pronouncement everyone started to settle down for the night, though Lizzy could still hear mumbling in the darkness and felt her ears burning.

* * *

It wasn't until the next day that she realised the full extent of the Dwarves disapproval, having previously dismissed last night's conversation as an amusing culture clash. Nearly everyone was avoiding her eyes and if she spoke to them they would give the briefest possible answers they could. The past few days of the journey she had rode mostly with Fili and Kili, but now even they were acting awkwardly towards her.

By midmorning things had gotten ridiculous. She was riding alone at the back of the group, watching as the Dwarves occasionally glanced over their shoulders at her and talked in hushed voices.

"It's funny isn't it," a voice said from beside her. She hadn't even noticed Bilbo slowing his pony to join her at the back, too preoccupied in feeling both sad and annoyed at the company. "Being the outsider in a group like this."

"I think I am almost beginning to regret coming, and it's only been a few days," she said honestly, putting words to what she had been feeling all morning, having been pondering how foreign and alien these two worlds actually were. She didn't like being judged for things that she saw as entirely normal and acceptable – hell, her mother had been the one to drive her to the GUM clinic to have the implant put in, thrilled that her daughter was seeing someone and wondering when she would get to meet him.

"I am having trouble adjusting too, but I'm certain things will get better," the Hobbit said, making Lizzy snort slightly – after all, she was meant to be the one who knew what would happen. "This is an adventure, Miss Elizabeth."

"Lizzy," she corrected him automatically.

"Sorry, Miss Lizzy."

She smiled, her first smile of the morning, and the two of them rode in companionable silence for the rest of the day.

When they stopped to make camp Lizzy found herself alone once more, with Bilbo being roped into helping Bombur cook. Once she had her portion of food she sat wordlessly to one side, watching as the light slowly faded. When darkness had completely fallen she realised that Fili and Kili had made no offer to start her archery lessons – somehow that upset her more than the rest of the Dwarves treatment. She rolled into a ball within her sleeping bag with her back to the fire and tried to sleep.

This went on for two more days, during which she had barely spoken more than a handful of words to anyone.

She had taken to riding beside Bifur whenever Bilbo was with the others, the slightly wild Dwarf not requiring much conversation. The days were passed in near silence, avoiding looking at the rest of the company too much and simply watching the slowly changing landscape. They were following the Great East Road and had just skirted the edges of the Midgewater Marshes – Lizzy couldn't help but feel that the dour landscape reflected her mood.

Midway through the second day Bifur cleared his throat to get her attention. _How are you? _he signed with his hands, just as she had taught him.

Lizzy almost felt like crying at this small gesture of kindness. She gave him a sad smile and nodded. "I'll be okay, Bifur," she said, and then added _thank you_ in sign language.

* * *

Thorin glanced over his shoulder from his place at the head of the company, looking for their advisor. He found her riding silently near the very back alongside Bifur looking positively miserable, her finely arched brows lowered heavily over her eyes as she stared blankly out over the ever shifting landscape. He couldn't help but remember how pleasant and full of laughter the first few days of the journey had been, largely due to the advisors cheerful presence among them, even giving Bofur a run for his money with her enthusiasm and quick wit – he was very aware that her current melancholy was due to the change in the company's treatment of her, despite his words about tolerance.

He slowed his pony until Fili and Kili drew level with him. While he may not have approved of the speed in which an easy relationship had apparently formed between the three of them, he liked her misery and their discrimination even less. There was a long silence and then Thorin spoke. "Have you ever heard that Elves do not eat meat?" he asked his nephews.

"No, why's that?" Fili said, not sounding particularly interested.

"They find it inhumane to eat a creature that was once living," he explained. Personally he found this concept ridiculous, almost all creatures ate others: it was simply the way of the world.

"Why are you telling us about Elves all of a sudden?" Kili wanted to know.

"When Thranduril paid homage to Thror in Erebor, King Thror did not serve his guest any meat. Though he did not agree with their traditions and ways, he respected them nevertheless," he said, not answering Kili's question directly. He gave both his nephews a piercing stare and allowed his voice to become stern, showing his dissatisfaction at their actions. "I expect you two to show the same courtesy to others."

They both looked shamefaced, reminding him just how young they were. He saw Fili's gaze flicker backwards to the tail end of the procession. "I think I understand what you're saying."

"Good," Thorin said, and then nudged his pony into a trot to resume his place at the head of the company.

* * *

Lizzy was sat with her arms wrapped around her knees a little way from the camp, her back to the company as she watched the sun setting from the edge of a small ridge. She heard the heavy tread of footsteps; Fili and Kili came to sit down on either side of her, their legs dangling.

"Are you alright?" Kili asked softly after a long moments silence.

"I'm fine," she replied in a brusque tone.

"You've been quiet the past few days," Fili pointed out.

Lizzy tried to put acid in her voice, but it just came out sad. "So have you guys."

"Sorry," Fili said, "it's just ..."

She sighed. "Just that you've suddenly lost a lot of respect for me, I know."

"No," Fili said with an adamant shake of his head

"I think we were surprised more than anything," Kili tried to explain. "It was a ..."

"Culture shock?" she supplied dully, resting her chin on her knees.

"Aye."

"Your world sounds like a strange one," Fili said in a conversational manner. "Women aren't as ... protected, or respected, it seems. I think the biggest shock for us was not that you were ... um, in a relationship, but that your lover didn't marry you and treated you the way he did. Also that no one fought for you when it ended as you said."

"I don't need protecting, and I don't need someone else to fight for me," she said, not liking the way that they made it sound as if women should be coddled.

"This coming from the girl who can't even lift a sword?" Fili said with an easy, sideways grin.

A smile of her own tugged reluctantly at her lips and she nudged him with her shoulder to show her mild displeasure.

"We know you don't need protecting when it comes to holding your own, Lizzy – Mahal, you have a razor sharp tongue that took even Thorin by surprise," Kili said. "But you have to understand that that's still how we see women in this world. In our culture women are cherished and respected because they are so much rarer than men. Love is a rare privilege for our race, and those who are lucky enough to find it certainly won't stray."

"That's mostly why Balin and Dwalin didn't want you in the company, you know," Fili told her, "because they know how dangerous the wild can be. I never met her, but they had a sister, Catlin, who died in the wilderness when Smaug overtook Erebor."

"I didn't know that," she said softly, thinking on how those two particular Dwarf brothers had been the strongest advocates against her joining the company. She also remembered Balin's gentle voice as he told her she reminded him of someone and felt a wave of guilt. "I've probably been a bit too snappish with them."

There was silence between the three of them for a long moment. The sun had well and truly set now, the only light coming from the bright campfire behind them.

"Bit too dark to start shooting now, isn't it?" Kili said conversationally, breaking the silence.

She couldn't help a smile, a well of gratitude for the two brothers welling inside her – she already considered them her closest friends among the company and had hated not talking to them.

"Lizzy, we really are sorry for our behaviour the past few days," Fili said with quiet seriousness.

She nodded, letting them know they were forgiven.

"Are you coming back to camp?" Kili asked, clambering to his feet.

"Sure," she said and both brothers extended a hand to help her up from the ridge. Taking both proffered hands, she allowed them to pull her back to her feet and lead her towards the fire, where Balin, Bofur and Bombur were sorting dinner.

"Look who finally decided to rejoin us," Bofur grinned.

Lizzy blinked at him. "I wasn't sure I was welcome."

"Well, that was mighty foolish of you, lass," he said as his brother ladled her a bowl of stew.

"Was it really?" she said with mild surprise. "You guys have been pretty much ignoring me the past few days."

"_You _were the one acting all skittish around us," Bofur pointed out.

"I wasn't acting _skittish_, you guys were ignoring me," she said defensively, a little annoyed at the cheerful Dwarf.

"You were _sulking_," Bofur corrected her. "You've barely said two words together the past few days."

"Yeah, well I was under the impression that I had become a social pariah after our conversation the other night," she said in an antsy voice, taking the bowl from Bombur.

Balin had apparently heard their conversation. "We won't deny your revelation was a shock at first, but we don't give two lumps of coal what you did or didn't do in your world, lass. That's your business."

"Exactly," Bofur said, slapping her on the back and nearly making her drop her stew. "You're part of the company now."

Lizzy smiled truly, the lingering sadness from the past few days lifting completely – perhaps she should have made more of an effort to talk to them as opposed to simply hiding at the back of the group. "Thanks guys."

Fili and Kili lead her to the shelter of a small overhang with their bowls and they settled with their backs against it, Lizzy content in the knowledge that the company wasn't judging her. Once they had finished eating the three of them busied themselves with various activities: Fili smoking, Kili busy re-fletching several of his arrows and Lizzy doing one of her sudukos by the faint light of the fire.

Most of the Dwarves had already gone to sleep for the night when a low screech rent the air. They all looked up at the noise. "What was that?" Bilbo asked, hurrying back to the main camp from where he had been standing with his pony – no doubt slipping his pony an apple, as he did most nights.

"Orcs," Kili said softly, a faint note of surprise in his voice.

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated, practically hopping in his haste to get back to the safety of the fire.

"Throat cutters," Fili added, sounding far too calm. "There'll be dozens of them out there, the low-lands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili said with the air of one telling a ghost story. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Lizzy kicked him in the back, noticing Bilbo's white face and fearful, darting eyes. She too was feeling a little anxious: it was only just dawning on her that in joining the company she would encounter orcs with them, something she was most definitely _not _looking forward to. "Leave him alone, guys."

Fili and Kili both simply chuckled.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin's voice came rumbling deeply from behind them as he walked into sight. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili said instantly, lowering his head in shame.

"No you didn't, you know nothing of the world," Thorin said fiercely, stalking over to the same ridge she had sat by earlier and looked out over the landscape with his back to the camp.

"I think you guys deserved that," she said softly to the boys, her gaze still fixed on Thorin's back. He had been sitting alone to one side, braced against the cliff wall as they were. As was his wont, he had spent most of the evening brooding silently, apparently not having paid the slightest bit of attention to her return to the camp earlier.

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin said reassuringly as he came over to join them, recognising that the youngest Dwarves were in need of some consolation after their scolding. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

Balin started recounting Thorin's story and Lizzy listened with half an ear, having heard the story before in the movie. It was strange, but she had only just had the realisation that the man in front of her staring out into the darkness, the man she had teased and debated with, had genuinely lived through these horrors that Balin was describing. This wasn't just a flash-back scene in a movie anymore and he wasn't just a character with a complicated back story: he had lost his family in that battle, being forced to become the leader of his people at a young age and he was now dealing with the burden of that responsibility.

The Dwarves around her seemed to be coming to a similar realisation, with several of them rising to their feet and looking at the Dwarf King with renewed admiration.

As Balin's tale drew to a close Thorin turned back to them, his face unexpectedly vulnerable. He inclined his head at them, acknowledging their respect.

"And the pale orc, what happened to him?" Bilbo asked, his arms wrapped around his knees like a child as he listened to Balin.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin said sourly as he returned to the camp. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

At this announcement Lizzy made awkward eye contact with Gandalf, knowing that if events followed the movie then Azog would most definitely not be dead. She swallowed hard and remained silent.

* * *

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	7. Aim and intentions

"_**Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand.**_

_**I don't care, I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me."**_

_**Opening song from Joss Whedon's **_**Firefly**

* * *

Thorin woke to the feeling of cool moisture on his face. Shifting in his bedroll to look at the sky, he noticed that it wasn't far from dawn: the clouds were dark and heavy with the promise of rain, though in the east they were tinged with the first hint of red. Already a light, misty drizzle was falling. He sighed: while he was used to travelling in the rain it did not make the sensation of wet clothes any more pleasant.

He rose quickly, shaking off the last of his nightmare-filled sleep. Bifur, who was on watch, saw him rising and nodded in greeting. Thorin wandered over to where the wild Dwarf was sitting with his cloak wrapped around him as protection from the elements, joining him in looking out over the ridge.

Even from this high vantage point they could only see little more than a mile before the horizon turned grey and hazy in the mist. _It's going to be a foul day_, Thorin signed in the Iglishmêk.

_Aye, _Bifur agreed with a single flick of his finger_. It won't be fair again for several days, by my reckoning. _

Thorin lingered for several more seconds, simply looking out westwards over the plains before moving away towards the small wood to the side of their camp. He gathered firewood before it could be soaked by the rain and returned to the group. The previous night the fire had been built under the shelter of the ridge, but the disadvantage to this was that it bought him close to where Miss Darrow was sleeping, curled up tight in what she referred to as her _sleeping bag_ next to Fili and Kili, the tip of her nose just visible above the blanket she had pulled to her face. She was something of an enigma to him, almost perpetually cheerful and quick with her words but still undoubtedly strange and foreign. He had been as shocked and repelled as the others when she had so casually described relationships in her world, but he had quickly realised from the blasé manner in which she spoke that she simply did not understand the magnitude of the differences between them: to her, she was describing something entirely natural and had neither anticipated nor understood their judgmental reaction. He had encountered similar such cultural differences before when he had travelled in human towns as a blacksmith, and so he had cleared his throat and told the company to stand down.

But it was more than that too, over the past few days he had noticed that she had a far greater knowledge of Middle Earth than she should, being from another world. Thorin couldn't help but be suspicious of her despite his intrigue in the girl.

By the time he had gotten the fire started (with more difficulty than he would care to admit due to the damp wood) the rest of the camp was beginning to stir. There was a faint rustle behind him and he turned to see Miss Darrow blinking sleepily at him, her face pale in the dawn light. She smiled and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'good morning' before sitting up, yawning hugely and nudging Kili with her foot to wake him.

She noticed the rain and, in a move that surprised him, closed her eyes and tilted her head back to allow it to fall on her face, a small smile gracing her lips.

The rest of the company did not have such a serene response to the foul weather: there were grumbles and groans abound as they ate breakfast and saddled the ponies, preparing to leave. Most of the company had leather cloaks or hoods to protect them from the rain, but Mr Baggins had ran out of his cosy home with no knowledge whatsoever about travelling in the wild and had only his blazer to cover him.

Miss Darrow received startled looks from several of the Dwarves when she rooted around in her pack and pulled out a very bright purple jacket with white spots that was folded up small. It was made of a strange, light material that the water simply sluiced off, protecting her far better than their leather hoods. Bofur commented on how happy she was despite the rain and she replied something about being _English _and not minding a bit of drizzle.

Within an hour of breaking camp the rain had turned torrential. It was the kind of rain that seeped down ones collar and into clothes, chilling the skin regardless of the number of layers worn.

Talk was scarce as the ponies splashed their way along the muddy path, the main topic of conversation being grumbles about wet tobacco.

Around mid-morning Miss Darrow spurred her pony forward until she was riding alongside him, an unusual occurrence since they rarely spoke while riding. Thorin braced himself for the disagreement that would almost undoubtedly arise from her mere presence, but she surprised him yet again. "Balin told us about the Battle of Azanulbizar last night," she said softly, stumbling a little over the Dwarvish pronunciation.

"What of it?" he asked gruffly, looking straight ahead at the path before him. He had heard Balin talking the previous evening and his sleep had been plagued with memories as a result.

"I just wanted to say … that I'm sorry about your family."

That made him glance at her. "Why do you apologise? When they were slain not only were you not yet born, you were not even in this world."

"I meant that I am sorry it happened to you," she clarified.

Thorin shook his head, dismissing her words. "Do not take responsibility for actions in which you had no part, you owe me no apologies."

"I'm not taking any responsibility, that would be ridiculous," she said with slight exasperation. "In my world we say sorry meaning I sympathise with your pain, or I regret that you are hurting – even if you had no part in hurting them."

"A strange custom," he observed.

"Perhaps," she said, shrugging. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He looked at her properly at that: he hadn't ever truly talked about that battle aside from discussions of revenge, not even with Balin and Dwalin, his closest friends. The closest he had ever come to showing his grief was when he had told his sister, Dis, about the outcome of the battle. "My brother, Frerin, also died that day," he said slowly after a long silence, the words dragged almost reluctantly from his lips.

Miss Darrow was simply looking at him, her head slightly cocked to one side as she listened, her hair escaping in wet, dark tangles from beneath her hood. Her eyes could only be described as beguiling, the precise colour of the rainclouds above them, silently entreating him to continue.

"He was several years younger than me - cocky and arrogant, much like Kili," he told her, the barest hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth at the memories that stirred. "He once said that the two of us could reclaim Erebor single-handedly and tame Smaug through sheer stubbornness."

"You miss him," she surmised.

"Every day," he nodded, and then returned his gaze to the road ahead. "I have not spoken of him in a while."

"I miss my brothers too," she said quietly, so quietly that he wondered if he was meant to hear her.

"You will see them again," he found himself telling her.

She gave him a small smile. "I hope so, though they will never believe me when I tell them about all this."

"And why is that?"

"Journeys to other worlds aren't particularly common," she pointed out wryly. "I'd probably be thrown in the loony bin if I ever told people about my jaunt in Middle Earth."

Before he could request clarification on what exactly the 'loony bin' was, as the company often had to do with her highly unusual way of speaking, Dori called out to where the Wizard was riding. "Here, Mr Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?"

At this Miss Darrow's smile bloomed into a full grin, as if something she had been expecting had happened.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Kili demanded instantly when Lizzy dropped back to ride with him again.

"What?" she asked innocently - as if she hadn't spent half the morning staring at his uncles back and chewing on her bottom lip. A few minutes ago she had told him that she would be back in a second and then went riding off to spend a good few minutes in quiet, intense conversation with Thorin.

"That," he said, nodding towards his uncle. Lizzy still looked confused. "You and Thorin," he elaborated.

"Oh, we were talking," she said casually, like that was explanation enough.

"About?" he prompted when it became clear that she wasn't going to clarify further.

She raised a single eyebrow at him. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

Kili wasn't going to let this drop. "What's going on?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?" Lizzy was definitely playing up to her innocence act right now, not looking at him and pretending to listen to Gandalf talk about Wizards.

"You two don't normally chat while we're riding," he pointed out patiently. "You ignore each other and if you do talk then you argue."

"So?"

"_So_, what's going on between you two?" he pressured.

A frown creased her forehead. "_Nothing_," she said, sounding scandalized – and in hindsight he probably could have phrased that question better, he hadn't meant to imply that there was anything romantic between them, he'd just wanted to know what they were talking about so secretly. "Jeez, Kili, what are you implying?"

Kili awkwardly scratched the back of his head, thinking that he really needed Fili for this kind of conversation. His brother was a few ponies away, talking to Nori about something. "It's just … I've never really seen him pay attention to a woman before."

Lizzy's mouth was hanging partially open. "He isn't _paying attention_ to me. God, you've been present for pretty much every single conversation we've had, I don't understand what you're picking up on."

"He stood up for you when we were, um … not really speaking to you," he said in his defence.

This surprised her and she gave him a sideways look. "He did?"

He nodded, still feeling a bit guilty for that. "Called us out on our behaviour, told us that even if we don't agree with people's traditions and ways that we still have to respect them."

"Well that's … nice," Lizzy trailed off, sounding very unsure if that was the adjective she wanted to use to describe his uncle. "I mean it's very … considerate. Diplomatic." she added, clearly having thought of the word she was looking for. "But it still doesn't mean that there is anything going on between us."

However now the idea of Thorin and Lizzy together was firmly planted in his head; Kili noticed more things the more he thought about it. "What about your conversation the other night about politics?" he questioned, having previously dismissed it as nothing.

"What about it?"

"There was a certain …_ tension _between the two of you," he said as he thought back.

Lizzy looked 'pissed off,' as she would have said in her strange manner – he was learning so many interesting words and phrases from her. "Jesus, have I said _one word_ about you and Tauriel? _No_, so you can just shut the hell up – there is no tension between me and Thorin."

"Who on earth is Tauriel?" he asked, thoroughly perplexed.

"Never _mind_," Lizzy groaned, and then she muttered under her breath something that sounded like _'bloody Peter Jackson, it's not even canon anyway.'_

* * *

The rain slowed to a drizzle as the afternoon wore on and the company had a rough time finding a dry bit of ground to make camp on. They eventually settled under a small clump of trees, though while it was drier beneath them the wind would occasionally shake the branches and send heavy drops showering down on them.

Fili and Kili started Miss Darrow's archery lessons as the others set up camp and attempted to build a fire with the little partially dry wood they could salvage. Thorin found himself watching them as they taught her the proper stance and grip, with Kili taking the lead due to his greater knowledge of archery – he was just thinking that it was pleasant to see his youngest nephew taking on such a responsibility with maturity befitting to his status as one of his heirs when Miss Darrow said something that caused Kili to laughingly put her in a headlock and he mentally took back his words.

"Do you ever wonder what is going on between those three?" he asked Balin, still looking at the trio.

Balin followed his gaze: Fili was breaking the other two apart and they resumed their lesson. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"She is very familial with them," he said.

"Ah, let the young people have their fun, laddie. I'm sure there is no harm in it," Balin said.

Thorin gave his friend a sceptical look. "I did not intend for this quest to be _fun."_

"Really? That's why I came along," Bofur said cheekily, having overheard them as he passed with an arm full of firewood.

The cheerful Dwarf was ignored. "I'm glad to see she is learning to use a weapon," Dwalin said gruffly. "I did not like the idea of her being completely defenceless."

Thorin nodded his agreement and continued to observe the lesson. She was not very good - in fact she was appalling. They kept her practicing until they lost the light and not once did she manage to hit the wide tree they were using as a target.

* * *

The next few days passed in a haze of drizzle, with the most interesting events being almost losing a pony as they forded a river (Fili and Kili got thoroughly soaked trying to rescue it and, unsurprisingly, no one understood the Baywatch joke Lizzy cracked) and Lizzy being completely hopeless at archery. Several of the Dwarves had lost a handful of coins betting that _this _day or_ that_ day would be the one that she finally managed to hit the target, but to no avail. It turned out that archery was _hard,_ far harder than they made it look in the movies.

The rainy weather finally broke and the clouds parted, significantly brightening everyone's mood – except for Thorin's, it seemed. As they had gotten closer to Rivendell Gandalf had been pestering him almost daily to stop off there and his irritation was reflected in the snappish way he was speaking to the entire company.

Evening had almost arrived when they approached an old, burnt out farm house that Lizzy instantly recognised. "Uh oh."

Fili and Kili gave her a questioning look. "Nothing, ignore me," she said in response to them, quickly dismounting from her pony before any of the others.

"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin announced, stopping just before the dilapidated house. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

"Better do as he says, I have no desire to be eaten," she said, shoving her reigns into Fili's hand and heading off to find Gandalf.

"… What is she talking about?" she heard Fili say from behind her.

Gandalf was gazing around the destroyed farm with a look of consternation on his face. "A farmer and his family used to live here …"

"Hey Gandalf, I recognise this place," Lizzy said as she caught up with the Wizard, gesturing around her with a thumb. "Is this one of the things you want me to change?"

He thought for a moment. "Perhaps, if we can," he said. Thorin came past them into the house, having been rudely ordering Oin to get a fire going – as if they hadn't been doing that every day they had made camp since setting out from the Shire. "I think it would be wiser to move on, we could make for the Hidden Valley," he said to the Dwarf.

The look on Thorin's face implied that he was thoroughly losing patience with the Wizard. "I have told you already, I will not go near that place."

"Why not?" the Wizard asked. "The Elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not _need_ their advice," Thorin said, sounding like a petulant child.

"We have a map that we cannot read, Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing!" he said angrily.

"Uh, deciding not to leap into a suicide mission and fight a dragon is hardly betraying you, it's not like the Elves actually _attacked_ you," Lizzy couldn't resist pointing out.

"You know nothing, Miss Darrow," Thorin said, positively glaring at her. He turned back to Gandalf. "You ask me to seek out the people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father …"

Gandalf lightly touched Lizzy's shoulder to stop her when she opened her mouth to speak again. "You are neither of them," he said consolingly to Thorin but when the Dwarf showed no sign of relenting, he added in a firmer voice, "I did not give you that map and key so that you could hold on to the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," he snapped, his gaze flicked furiously up at the Wizard.

Gandalf huffed and turned on his heel, grinding his staff into the ground and stalking out of the ruined house. "Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?" Bilbo asked as he passed him.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who has any sense," he retorted, not even slowing down.

"And who's that?"

"_Myself,_ Mr Baggins," Gandalf barked as he left. "See if you can reason with him, Miss Darrow. I've had enough of Dwarves for one day."

Thorin looked daggers at her, almost daring her to respond to the Wizards order. Never one to back down from a challenge, she straightened her shoulders and stared the angry King straight in the eyes. "I do know some things, I know that even if you don't want to go to Rivendell we shouldn't stay here."

"Here we have shelter, room for the ponies, firewood and fresh water. Night will be falling in little over an hour, so moving on is impractical. I suggest you continue with your archery Miss Darrow, Mahal knows you need the practice," he growled, unimpressed with her. He moved passed her and out of the house, indicating that she was dismissed, addressing the other Dwarves. "Come on Bombur, we're hungry."

* * *

The past few days of lessons had not improved Lizzy's technique in the slightest. Fili and Kili had taught her the basics and apparently she had her stance just right, but every single arrow still missed the wide oak tree she was using as a target.

She mumbled furiously under her breath as she emptied Kili's quiver again and again, firing every arrow into the grass only to stomp forward, collect them all and start over. She was annoyed at Thorin for not listening to her and dismissing her advice to move on like she was an annoying child, simply ordering her to practice – and it wasn't like she could just _tell_ him that there were three hungry trolls who would like nothing better than Dwarves for dinner just on the other side of those trees.

She was also infuriated by his mood swings: after their brief conversation about his family in the rain she had thought they were on their way to some kind of friendship, only now to have him turn around and snap at her.

Getting irritated when an arrow sailed a good few feet to the side of the tree, she moved a few steps forward to see if being closer to the target would help make things easier.

"Move back," he heard Thorin's rumbling voice coming from behind her. She turned and saw him sitting on a low rock in the camp, watching her with his pipe in the corner of his mouth. "You are perfectly able to reach the target from your previous distance. Moving forward will not make your technique any better."

Lizzy wordlessly did as he said, her lips pressed tightly together in annoyance. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with simply telling her off for trying to advise him, he now wanted to criticise her archery too. She nocked another arrow and drew it back, acutely aware of his scrutiny – it missed completely.

"You are focusing too much on the target," Thorin said, standing and walking over to her.

"Kili told me to," she pointed out brusquely, wishing he would just leave her be.

Thorin shook his head, dismissing her words. "For Kili the motions are instinctual and the target is the only thing to be considered. You make mistakes because you are focusing on the target and not your actions. And I doubt he took into account that you need a different style as a woman."

He gestured for her to take her stance and gave her an appraising look. With one hand on her right shoulder he pulled her back slightly until she was facing the target at an angle. "Legs further apart, brace your weight here ... lower your elbow," he added, pushing downwards on her drawn back arm until he was satisfied with her position, his hand cool on her bare skin. "Both eyes open. Take aim ... try now."

Lizzy took a deep breath and released the arrow – it hit the tree.

Of course it was still miles away from where she had actually been aiming, but it was the first arrow to go anywhere near the target. She couldn't help a grin.

Thorin released her arm from where he had been guiding her, his face still fixed in a scowl. "Keep practicing," he said grumpily, turning to head back to the camp.

"Gandalf is right, you know," Lizzy said to his back as she drew another arrow, regaining his attention. "Other than your stubborn pride there is no good reason for us not to go to Rivendell." She took her stance, just as he had shown her, aimed and released, hitting the tree once more.

"I have no desire to trade hollow niceties with the Elves. We have enough provisions to last us until we reach the Wild, then we will be able to hunt with ease, therefore we have no need of supplies," Thorin said, clearly cross at having to repeat himself. "There is no reason why we _should_ go to Rivendell."

"But that doesn't exactly help us with the map though, does it?" she pointed out, firing another arrow – this one missed the tree, but not as badly as she had done before. She paused, resting the bottom of the bow on the ground. "You know, Kili told me that you stood up for me when the others were being all judgemental, talking about respect and tolerance."

"What of it?" he asked, his gravelly voice sounding annoyed.

"Well now you don't want to go near the Elves because of similar prejudices, don't you think that makes you a little hypocritical?" she put to him.

Thorin folded his arms, giving her a disapproving look. "And what else have you and Kili been discussing?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lizzy asked with a confused frown.

"What exactly are your intentions towards my nephews, Miss Darrow?" Thorin said bluntly, his blue eyed gaze fixed on her face, judging her reaction.

"My_ intentions_?" she repeated – was this the question of the week or something? She had already had to deal with Kili's questioning. "Are you_ serious_?"

"Very," he intoned. "My nephews are the closet family I have and I do not wish to see either of them trifled with."

"I'm not_ trifling_ with them, and I certainly don't have any intentions," she said, growing annoyed in turn.

"You three are very intimate with each other," Thorin pointed out, clearly fishing for information.

"So?"

"_So_," he said with a scowl. "One cannot help but recall your account of the ... somewhat looser morals in your world, as well as the medical device in your arm that you so proudly displayed."

Lizzy blinked at him with her mouth hanging partially open, reigning in her temper when she realised just what it was exactly that he was implying. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just say that. Yes, we are intimate with each other, but it's called_ friendship_, Thorin."

"Be sure that it does not turn into more, such a development would no doubt be a distraction on this quest," he ordered before turning on his heel to head back to the camp.

"Wait," she called angrily, taking a few steps after him. He stopped and turned around again. "You think you can just change the subject and walk away? We were talking about Rivendell."

It appeared that Thorin was clenching his jaw. "I've already made it clear that Rivendell is not an option."

Lizzy's hand was tight around the grip of the bow, Kili would probably have told her off if he had seen how she was holding his precious weapon. "Why did you take me on as an advisor if you're not even going to listen to what I have to say?"

"I took you on because I had little choice," he said in a low hiss. "Had I not already given my word to Gandalf I would have left you back in The Shire, you have certainly proved to be of little use so far."

Lizzy bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from lashing out right back. She drew herself up to her full height, immensely grateful that Thorin was only a few inches taller than her so that she could look him in the eye, and said as coolly as possible, "... Break camp now. Get the entire company together and leave this place."

It was Thorin's turn to blink at her, clearly having anticipated a different reaction to his words. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I am _advising_ you too," she said with a hint of acid in her voice. "Things will go badly here if you don't."

He shook his head. "Both you and Gandalf simply want to go to Rivendell, I will not listen to you anymore."

"Going to Rivendell is the only way you are going to find out what that map says, because I am certainly not going to bother telling you," she called after him as he started to walk away once more.

That got his attention. He turned and took a few steps back until he was right in front of her, their faces close together. "You aren't going to ... _bother?"_ he repeated, and Lizzy silently cursed her stupidly big mouth. "How could you possibly know what the map says?"

"I don't," she said instantly, turning away from him and reaching for another arrow – not entirely a lie, she couldn't remember the exact wording of the map but she knew the gist of it from the story.

Thorin grabbed her wrist, stopping the movement. "You are not a very good liar, Miss Darrow," he said in a soft and dangerous voice. "You will tell me what you know, right now."

"I didn't say that I know anything," she said, trying to pull her hand free but to no avail. "However I do know that Elrond will be able to help us, in fact he is probably one of the few people in Middle Earth who can actually read it."

His grip tightened almost painfully. "You claim to be from another world and yet you seem very knowledgeable about Middle Earth and its people ... How is that?"

"Let go of me," she demanded.

Thorin released her instantly, almost tossing her arm away in disgust. "You must think me a fool if you believe that I haven't noticed that you are not that which you seem. Mark my words, Miss Darrow, I will discover your secret."

* * *

Darkness had nearly fallen by the time Fili and Kili finished settling the ponies, with some of them in the remains of a barn and others tethered by their long reigns to broken beams and tree branches. Kili patted Cotton's flanks and ducked under her neck to rejoin Fili. "I'm starving, I'm going to see how long dinner will be," he announced and got only a grunt in reply from his brother, who was retying the knot on Binky's reigns.

He picked his way through the trees towards the camp but stopped abruptly when he saw Thorin helping Lizzy with her archery. He ducked behind a tree to watch them. Thorin had one hand on her shoulder, pulling her gently round until she was facing the target at an angle. He then pushed her elbow down, his hand lingering as she fired the arrow. She smiled hugely when it actually met its mark.

"Fili!" he hissed over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. "Damn it," he muttered when his brother didn't reply, abandoning his post to go find him.

"Fili!" he called again when he reached the ponies.

"What?" his brother asked, busy stroking Daisy's neck.

"Come on, you have to see this," Kili said, already halfway back out of the clearing. "Uncle is helping Lizzy with her archery, they actually look like they're _flirting."_

Fili made a noise of disbelief but followed him nevertheless until they were at the edge of the trees. Thorin and Lizzy were eye to eye, talking intensely. "Looks more like an argument to me," Fili pointed out, and then raised his eyebrows as they saw their uncle grab Lizzy's wrist, his expression furious. "And a heated one too."

Kili was annoyed. "They _were_ flirting, I saw it with my own eyes," he said, watching Thorin stalk away and Lizzy sticking her tongue out at his back.

"Sure you did, " Fili said, slapping a hand on his back. "Come on, let's get back to the ponies."

"Ten gold says they're married by mid-winter," he said trailing after his brother as they headed back into the trees.

"Are you serious?" Fili stopped him, his expression unusually solemn. "Kee, she's going back to her own world."

He hadn't considered this, but he was still positive of what he had seen between them. He raised his chin stubbornly. "Ten gold, take it or leave it."

Fili sighed, extending his hand and they shook on the bet. "Fine, but you're going to lose."

They reached the clearing and froze. Several of the surrounding trees had been ripped up, as if something huge had stomped through the trees, simply swatting them aside as it went. Two of their ponies were also missing. "Oh _Mahal ..."_

* * *

**Pretty Thorin/Lizzy heavy chapter, a lot of interaction in this one - or, as it has been dubbed by one awesome reviewer, AvengerNerd3, LORIN!**

**I was a bit worried I wouldn't get it out by today since I have started my job, as well as not having a laptop, so writing took a bit of a hit this week. Also means I can't guarantee an update by Monday, as I usually do, but I will do my best!**

**Also the Tauriel reference wasn't originally in there, but I couldn't resist after seeing the trailer and reading about the hinted romance between her and Kili – which leads me to today's question ... what did you guys think of the trailer?**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are very welcome and you can follow any updates / sneak peeks / ask questions about the story on my tumblr**_** ~Kindle-the-Stars**_


	8. Wrought iron and gold

"_**Give me honourable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night."**_

**George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire**

* * *

Thorin was brooding when he returned to the camp, wordlessly throwing himself down in front of the fire. Drawing his sword and placing it across his lap, he located his whetstone and set to work tending to the metal instead of engaging with the rest of the company, the ritual movement of the sharpening soothing to his nerves. He was more perturbed by his conversation with their advisor than he cared to show, never having laid violent hands upon a woman before – she had actually had to ask him to release her, much to his shame.

There was simply something about her that roused his emotions and caused his temper to flare in unexpected ways. Still, that did not excuse his behaviour.

The problem was he had seen the lie in her eyes when she spoke about not knowing what the map said: somehow, impossibly, she knew the answers to the questions they sought and was withholding her knowledge for reasons that were unclear to him.

His eyes flickered in her direction once more. She was collecting Kili's arrows, having lost the light to continue shooting, and returning to the camp. She sat down with Bifur and Bombur (who had just been turned away by his brother as he snuck to the fire to get a third helping of dinner) with Kili's bow resting to by her side. Almost instantly laughter rang out from that side of the camp, her cheerful presence clearly being infectious.

Moments later Fili came jogging out from the trees, his face uncharacteristically serious. "Several of our ponies have been stolen by trolls," he said loudly, getting the entire company's attention. "Mr Baggins is attempting to steal them back, but will probably need our help."

Thorin was on his feet in seconds.

* * *

The entire camp quickly became a hive of activity, with all the Dwarves putting down their food and gathering their weapons. The first words from Thorin's mouth were a demand to know where Kili was, and Fili replied that he was quiet safe and supervising Mr Baggins. Reassured, Thorin immediately started barking orders to the rest of the company, telling them to be stealthy and ready their weapons.

Lizzy had stood up with Kili's bow in hand, thinking she might give it to Fili in case Kili needed it. Thorin clearly misunderstood her movement, striding up to her and pulling the bow from her hands. "What do you think you're doing?" he practically hissed at her, his face close to hers.

"I was -"

"What help do you think you can provide against trolls with a bow you can barely fire and no fighting skills to speak of?"

"Actually, I was -"

It seemed that Thorin was determined not to let her speak. With one hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm he marched her to one of the logs they had been using as seats around the fire. "Stay here," he commanded.

"I -"

"That was an order, Miss Darrow," he interrupted imperiously, probably expecting her to come out with an impassioned tirade on why she should join them. "You shall not stir one foot from this spot until we return."

Lizzy threw herself defiantly on to the log, sprawling out as best she could. She was quite content to stay at the camp, knowing the company would return after dawn no worse for wear. "Happy to," she said bitingly, finally able to get a word in edgeways. "I have absolutely no desire to be captured by three hungry trolls."

Thorin gave her an inscrutable look at that and passed her back the bow. "Use that only in great need, if things should go badly then running, not fighting, is your best chance of survival." He loomed over her imperiously, his expression still unreadable. "If you wish to make yourself useful then you can start to dismantle the camp: providing Mr Baggins successfully manages to steal back the ponies without alerting the trolls to our presence then we will be moving on as soon as possible."

"What a pity we didn't break camp earlier," Lizzy said in a parting shot to Thorin's back as he walked away to join the assembled Dwarves. He stiffened, but did not turn around.

* * *

The company moved quietly into the trees, following Fili with their weapons at the ready. Dwarves were not the most soft footed race but in great need they could be stealthy despite their large, heavy boots. Thorin caught up with his nephew, his freshly sharpened sword poised for their attack. "Fili, how many trolls are there?" he asked softly.

"Three," he whispered back.

Thorin's scowl deepened. He had been surreptitiously watching Miss Darrow throughout the evening (as he often found himself doing for reasons he could not explain to himself) and she had not once left the camp, so how could she have known the number of the trolls they were facing? This line of thought bought other memories to mind: how much she had known about their quest before meeting her and her being so certain that Bilbo would join them. It was almost as if she had knowledge of events before they even took place.

Now, however, was not the time to ponder the mystery that was their advisor, he thought as they approached the fire. He could make out the sound of the trolls talking, the frightened whinny of their ponies and the stench of something foul cooking.

They found Kili crouched low on the edge of the circle of firelight, his eyes fixed on the scene before him.

"How is our burglar doing?" Thorin asked, keeping low.

Kili shook his head to indicate that things were not good, not moving his eyes from the trolls. "He was doing well, but now he is attempting to steal a knife from one of the trolls to cut the ropes."

Thorin cursed under his breath in Khuzdul – that bloody idiot of a Hobbit was going to get them all killed. He could have returned to the camp to get a knife, or even simply not attempted to steal the ponies back: the trolls only had four of them, one of which was just used for baggage, they could have made do with several of them taking it in turns to walk on foot or share until the ponies were replaced.

He watched as Mr Baggins tried to figure out the shape of the knife and best angle with which to remove it from the trolls belt with a sense of trepidation, silently wishing that the Hobbit's courage would fail him and he would slip away out of danger. The troll, who looked particularly dim-witted even for their notoriously stupid race, took a deep breath as if to sneeze, reaching behind him to grab a disgusting looking handkerchief – except he grabbed Mr Baggins instead and blew his nose on him without looking properly.

Thorin wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight of the foul slime covering their burglar, who was wriggling in the trolls grip. "Kili, on my mark," he said softly.

Kili glanced at him and nodded his understanding.

Bilbo was hoisted into the air, dangling upside down between the three trolls. They were questioning him as to whether there were any more of them around – surprisingly, Mr Baggins did not reveal the group to save himself. However when the trolls threatened torture Thorin felt that now was the time for action: he signalled to Kili, who leapt from his hiding place and slashed the leg of one of the trolls, effectively catching their attention. "Drop him!" he shouted, twirling his sword with cocky arrogance.

"You what?" one of the trolls holding Bilbo said in surprise.

"I said ... _drop him_," Kili repeated, his sword held ready in front of him.

The troll threw Mr Baggins straight at Kili, knocking his nephew off his feet with the Hobbit sprawled on top of him.

Thorin roared, charging forward with a battle cry.

* * *

Lizzy grumpily did as Thorin asked, dismantling the camp as best she could. It mostly involved tidying the bedrolls that several of the Dwarves had already gotten out, eager to claim the most comfortable bits of ground, and putting them back in various packs. She was uncertain of what to do with the stew that was still merrily bubbling over the fire, not wanting to simply throw it all away, and so she left it – after all, they might be hungry after their experience with the trolls.

She had finished within an hour and was left sitting on one of the logs, chewing her nails. They had probably been captured by now, the bloody idiots, though she hadn't heard a single thing besides the occasional hoot of an owl since they had left. The trolls must have been further away than she thought, if she hadn't even heard their battle. She couldn't help but feel a little on edge, even though she knew that they would all be fine. If this was a fanfiction then she would no doubt have waltzed in there and saved the day with the wicked cool archery skills she had picked up in only a few days, or even defeated the trolls single-handedly using some kind of technology from her world. She grinned at the image of her throwing her suduko book at a troll.

Really though, those fanfiction writers knew nothing and were quite frankly ridiculous in wanting to join quests like this – there was nothing even remotely appealing about having to share a damn hole with fifteen men to use as a toilet and no loo roll.

Looking up at the sky, she thought that there might still be perhaps two hours left until dawn and the company would return. Really they should be grateful that it was summer and the nights were so short: had they been travelling in winter then they would probably have been eaten before the sun could rise and Gandalf could save them.

Gandalf ... where was he, anyway? Lizzy thought, glancing around the deserted camp. He knew the story so he must know the role he played in the Dwarves escape from the trolls, but he had still stormed off regardless. He had said that things in the story were liable to change, so what if he didn't make it back in time?

She located the flashlight from her pack and stood up, awkwardly shouldered Kili's bow. Looking for Gandalf gave her something to do and was much better than simply sitting meekly at the camp, she reasoned as she marched purposefully in the direction that the Wizard had left in.

* * *

Thorin had never been so humiliated in his life when the trolls jeeringly goaded the company to strip down to their underclothes. One of them jabbed at them with a rusty spoon as they reluctantly did so, while the other two still held Mr Baggins between them for leverage. Their clothes and weapons were all tossed in a heap on the other side of the camp, out of reach behind the trolls even if they could free themselves. The mortification continued as they were all tied in foul smelling sacks that he suspected had been used to carry carrion of some sort in the recent past. Several of them were piled haphazardly together while the others were tied to a spit.

That their quest should end like this was an indignity not to be borne, he thought as he attempted to bite through the rope, doing his best to ignore the rancid taste. He, the King of his people, along with his two heirs and closest, most trusted friends, meeting their end on a trolls spit over a cooking fire: it was not the death he had envisioned for himself, being neither old age or leaving this world in the heat of battle and glory. And his young nephews, barely out of their boyhood, would now loose all of the potential their lives had held.

His sister would be devastated, he thought. She would never know what happened to them, only that the entire company went missing on their journey.

The only silver lining he could see in the entire situation was that Miss Darrow had remained safe at the camp. Had she joined them in the attack she would not have been given the courtesy of a sack and brief reprieve. Women were trolls favourite dish, something of a delicacy to be squabbled over. They would have argued over her the moment she had been captured and eventually eaten her raw, if they hadn't used her for sport first. The thought sickened him to his stomach.

Kili twisted in his sack to look up into his face, his expression contorted trying to hide the fear that was no doubt coursing through him. "Thorin, where's Lizzy?" he asked quietly, sounding scared.

"I told her to stay at the camp," he said, taking care to keep his voice low so as not to alert the trolls to their conversation.

Kili nodded, his gaze returning to where the others were being hoisted above the fire for roasting and then darting around the trolls camp, still fruitlessly looking for an escape. "There is no way she would be able to rescue us without being caught," he observed resignedly.

"No," he breathed back. There was a long silence as they helplessly watched their companions start to be turned on the spit, several of them unproductively complaining that the fire was too hot. "We are close to Rivendell, she will be able to find haven with the Elves," he reassured his nephew, allowing him this comforting thought in their dire situation.

Kili nodded again. "At least she is safe," he said softly, sounding genuinely concerned for the girl. Thorin couldn't help but take this as evidence for his nephews feelings towards her, despite her words refuting such a possibility earlier.

Just as things were starting to look truly hopeless and the trolls were debating on the best way to cook them – whether to spit them, sauté them or simply sit on them and squash them into jelly, none of which sounding like a pleasant way to die – Mr Baggins suddenly spoke up, addressing the trolls and telling them they had made a mistake.

Despite protests from the company that the trolls couldn't be reasoned with, Mr Baggins blundered recklessly on. Thorin wondered what he was trying to achieve, but when the Hobbit spoke about the secret to cooking Dwarf he realised in anger that the cowardly little man was trying to save his own skin by literally helping the trolls to toss them into the fire.

It was only when the Hobbit spoke out to save Bombur from being eaten raw, claiming that they all had parasites, that he realised that Mr Baggins was actually attempting to buy them time – after all, the trolls had just said that dawn would turn them to stone. He glanced at the sky: the sun had probably already risen by now, but how long would it be before its light penetrated the clearing?

The company were all adamantly proclaiming that they didn't have parasites, which would effectively ruin Bilbo's attempt to talk them free if they continued. Thorin kicked Kili, the loudest protester, in the back, gaining his attention. All heads swivelled towards him and he saw the realisation of what Mr Baggins was attempting to achieve dawn in their eyes. Instead of protests, they were now arguing over whose parasites were biggest.

"What would you have us do then?" one of the trolls asked Mr Baggins, looming high over him. "Let 'em all go?"

"Well ..."

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" the troll said, poking Bilbo in the stomach. "This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" said Mr Baggins indignantly.

"Fools?" one of the other trolls repeated in an equally offended tone.

"The dawn will take you all!" a familiar voice said loudly. Gandalf was standing tall on a large rock on one side of the camp, the sky pale behind his imposing figure.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

The trolls conversation was bought to an abrupt halt as Gandalf bought his staff sharply down onto the rock, splitting it cleanly in half to reveal the glorious sunrise behind him. Light flooded the clearing and the trolls contorted in pain, their limbs stiffening and taking on the grey hew of stone before they became motionless, perpetually suspended around their campfire.

Realising that they were saved, the company started to laugh in relief and even Thorin cracked a wide smile.

Almost instantly he heard a rustle in the bushes and felt something behind him. Turning his head, he found himself face to face with Miss Darrow, who was crouched next to him attempting to cut through the rope at the top of his sack with a small knife that he didn't know she carried.

"I think that went well," she said with perky enthusiasm, helping him to his feet. The sack fell down to his legs without the rope tying it as he stood and her gaze flicked boldly down his under-clothed clad body. "Nice onesie," she added with an insolent smirk.

Ignoring her comment, he took the knife from her hands and started sawing Kili free, the rest of the Dwarves still laughing and celebrating despite their bonds. Her blade was tiny and very blunt, barely half the length of his finger, and seemingly folded back into its own hilt. Once both his nephews were freed from their sacks he passed the knife back to her, ordering her to help the others free while he, Fili and Kili rescued the Dwarves from above the fire.

Once everyone was freed from the ropes constraining them Thorin stalked over to the pile of clothing and weapons, locating his own gear in the messy heap. He dressed quickly, glad to have his sword at his side once more. He noticed Gandalf eyeing the stone trolls and approached him.

"Where did you go, if I may ask?" he said to the Wizard.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied with studied innocence.

"And what bought you back?"

"Looking behind," Gandalf said meaningfully, giving something over Thorin's shoulder a pointed look. Turning, Thorin followed his gaze to where Miss Darrow was laughingly helping Bifur to dress with the assistance of his cousins, her hair shining like burnished gold in the dawn light.

Thorin looked questioningly back at Gandalf, raising one eyebrow. The Wizard nodded, silently confirming his suspicion that Miss Darrow had sought him out after he had told her to stay at the camp. He was torn between being relieved that they had all survived the ordeal and being annoyed at her for disregarding his orders.

Relief won out and he graciously nodded his thanks to the Wizard for returning, thinking that he would have to thank Miss Darrow also for her role in saving them.

"Nasty business, still we're all in one piece," Gandalf added jovially.

"No thanks to your burglar," he pointed out.

Gandalf gave him a sharp, admonishing look. "He had the nerves to play for time, none of the rest of you thought of that." He gazed over at the trolls, clearly thinking hard. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin said, never having heard of such an attack on the Great East Road, which had always been deemed to be reasonably safe.

"Not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands," he replied ominously, causing Thorin to study his perturbed expression. "They could not have moved in daylight ..."

"There must be a cave nearby," Thorin said, finishing Gandalf's musing. Trolls were notorious hoarders, keeping everything from their victims and pilling it away. A troll-hoard would be a foul place, but would potentially contain food supplies like flour or vegetables that trolls deemed inedible with their disgusting appetites, weapons and possibly even treasure.

* * *

Lizzy was still wrinkling her nose as she wandered around the troll camp, helping various Dwarves find and sort their belongings. She had underestimated just how badly the trolls smelt, a disgusting mixture of excrement, things going rotten and particularly sweaty feet that lingered in the air of the camp long after the trolls had turned to stone. Even the company smelt a bit iffy to her, with half of them smelling smoky after nearly being roasted and the other half stinking from the sacks they had been forced into. Poor Bilbo had it worst of all, still being covered in dried troll snot that was clinging stubbornly to his jacket.

She knew that the Dwarves considered her both amusing and fastidious with her insistence on bathing at every opportunity, but if they didn't wash after this incident then she might have to start throwing buckets of water on everyone herself.

She was amusing herself by imagining a soaking wet Thorin's angry reaction to having water thrown all over him when the Dwarf himself cleared his throat from behind her. She turned to face him.

"I thought I told you to stay at the camp," he said haughtily, staring her down.

"Well, if I had then the trolls would have enjoyed _barbeque-a-la-Dwarf_ and you would be dead," she pointed out.

"Indeed," Thorin agreed congenially, seemingly catching her meaning even though he might not have understood her phrasing. "Thank you."

She blinked at him – once, twice, three times - and then looked down at her toes. "You're welcome," she said with a small smile, not having expected his thanks.

"However ..." he added, his voice turning stern once more.

That made her look up at him again in exasperation, the friendly moment they had been having rapidly dissolving. "Ah, of course there is a _however_."

"How did you know about the trolls?" he asked plainly, folding his arms authoritatively.

Lizzy smirked at him, having no intention of answering his questions. "Maybe I'm just smarter than you give me credit for."

"Try again," Thorin said and she could sense his growing frustration beneath his unimpressed facade.

Realising that he was not in the mood for word-play, she decided to feed him a line that he might potentially believe. "The house clearly wasn't destroyed by fire, there were still flowers growing on the side that would have wilted in the heat – ergo, it was torn apart. Trolls were a logical assumption."

"That may be so," Thorin allowed, "but how did you know that there was three of them without having left the camp."

Lizzy opened her mouth but no words came out – Thorin raised an eyebrow at her, clearly noticing that she had no answer for him. She was saved from having to dig her way out of this hole when Nori and Dori came over to speak to Thorin. "I think we're done here, what's the plan?"

He shifted his gaze from her to them. "Get a fire started again and start on breakfast. We will find the cave, get a few hours rest and then start in the afternoon."

"We aren't moving on now?" Lizzy interrupted, remembering that there were wargs hunting them even as they spoke, ones that would very shortly be catching up with them.

"No."

She bit her lip nervously. "I really think we should."

"Not a single one of us had slept last night, Miss Darrow. I'm sure most would appreciate food, rest and the opportunity to wash," he said, so at least he was aware of just how badly the company currently smelt. He noticed her perturbed expression. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head and moving quickly away before he could start to question her about the trolls again. After last night she felt that she couldn't press the issue of moving on lest Thorin became even more suspicious of her fore-knowledge. She sighed in frustration – if events were following the movie it looked like they would very soon be running for their lives.

* * *

The troll hoard had been as foul as he had anticipated, the lingering smell of death and decay hanging around the cave and drawing flies. Inside were the sad remnants of the trolls victims, ranging from coins scattering the floor to things that were clearly household items from destroyed homes.

Far to the back of the cave, among the detritus and ruin, Thorin had found several swords covered in dust and cobwebs. Being well versed in the art of crafting fine weapons, he recognised peerless craftsmanship when he saw it: these swords were clearly not the work of any troll.

He passed the longer, double edged sword to Gandalf and examined the single-edged sword himself: its shape and weight, along with the single sharp edge, would be ideal for his style of fighting. The scabbard was dusty, but appeared to be made from a mixture of pale wood and steel. The hilt was some kind of tooth or bone, a sturdy anchor for the weight of the blade. He had the smallest of smiles on his face as he turned the sword to examine the hand-and-a-half hilt, where four tiny diamonds were embedded into the pommel.

"These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves of the First Age," Gandalf said, a note of surprise in his voice.

Thorin paused in his examination of the sword, disliking that this beautiful piece of craftsmanship was forged by his enemies. He made to put it back where he had found it, but was stopped by Gandalf's stern voice. "You could not wish for a finer blade!"

Pulling the sword from its scabbard, he examined the steel of the blade with a critical eye, finding it to be flawless. Runes were inlayed on the metal and while he recognised the letters the words themselves were foreign to him. The metal shone brightly even after many years lying in the troll hoard, its edge still keen and sharp. He could not help but wonder how the Elves wrought their iron into such fine blades that remained untouched by time and refused to notch in battle.

Truly, Gandalf was right: for a weapon as superior as this perhaps he could overlook its origins.

Gandalf, content with his new sword, was making his way to the far end of the cave to examine the hoard for any further treasures, while Thorin lingered by the collection of swords. With his new weapon resting beside him, he was scrutinising the debris for anything else worth salvaging when another blade caught his eye.

It was a short, faintly curved sword, the blade being little over two and a half feet long, making it at least half a foot smaller than his own new weapon. The pommel was simple, made of pale wood, and there was white-gold wire wrapped every half inch around the grip. It was very light and designed to be wielded with one hand, ideal for quick, parrying movements and jabs, not suited for the somewhat heavy-handed Dwarvish manner of fighting. Pulling it from its dusty sheath, he saw that it was thin and razor sharp, also being an Elvish weapon. Grabbing his flickering torch, he ran the light over the blade: there were runes curving down its length, though he could not decipher them.

He turned the weapon over in his hands, thinking hard.

He was distracted by Gloin telling Dwalin that they were making a long term deposit, busy burying some of the hoarded gold. He felt mild disapproval, not liking that they were profiting from the trolls savagery but also knowing it would be taken by scavengers if just left out in the open – then again, he was doing the same in taking the weapons. "Let's get out of this foul place," he said, making for the exit, suddenly eager to be out of the cave. "Come on, let's go. Bofur, Gloin, Nori."

Relieved to breathe the fresh air again, he paused while the other Dwarves passed him as they exited the cave. He noticed Kili standing to one side with Bifur, holding a rams skull as the older Dwarf sorted through a section of the hoard that had been carelessly left outside. He handed the short, thin sword to his nephew, who took it with a surprised expression.

"Your woman needs a weapon, one that she can actually wield," he said gruffly.

"She's not my woman, Uncle," Kili said, inspecting the hilt of the sword.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at him, silently challenging his words.

"Truly, she is most definitely _not _my woman," Kili reiterated firmly, looking straight up into his eyes. "I think of her as ... a sister."

"Good," Thorin said simply.

* * *

Lizzy had been standing with Fili and Dori, having no desire to brave the stench of the troll hoard, when Kili walked up to them with a sword in his hands. He tried to hand it to her but she simply stared down at it, stupefied. "Thorin asked me to give you this," he said by way of explanation, sending a smirk in Fili's direction.

"What on earth am I supposed to do with that?" she asked, not noticing Fili and Dori's shocked expressions. "I thought we had established that I can barely even _hold_ a sword."

"It's a lot lighter than ours, so it must be an Elvish weapon of some kind," he said, weighing the sword in his hands. Adjusting his grip, he held it by the sheath and offered the hilt to her. "Here, try it out."

She tentatively wrapped her right hand around the grip, feeling the cold wire and dust beneath her fingers, and slowly drew the sword from its sheath. It was indeed much lighter than the sword Fili had attempted to train her with and perhaps as long as her arm. It was faintly curved, shining brightly in the early morning sunlight.

She kind of loved it even though she didn't think she would ever be able to wield it – it was deadly, elegant and pretty all at the same time.

_Thorin _has given this to her? Or had he just found it and thought that she should have it?

"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted from the entrance to the cave and everyone suddenly burst into action, with Kili thrusting the scabbard into her hands as well.

"Stay together! Hurry now, arm yourselves!" Gandalf was shouting, and now even she could hear the sound of something large crashing through the undergrowth – however she was neither scared nor hurrying to face off this new opponent, knowing it was only Radagast.

She swallowed hard – but if Radagast was here, it meant the orcs hunting them were not far behind.

* * *

After the two Wizards went off to a small hill to discuss their sorcerous business in private, Thorin found himself looking to Miss Darrow. He was pleased to see that she was holding the sword he had given her, if a little gingerly. Fili and Kili were crouched beside her, trying to figure out a way in which to attach the sword-belt to her strange trousers. He watched them surreptitiously for several minutes, during which time they managed to fit the belt snugly around her hips. He couldn't help but notice that her attention was not on the boys at all, rather she was gazing almost fearfully around the trees, her brow creased in a frown.

He waited until his nephews had finished and left her before stalking over. "What?" he asked sharply.

"What?" she repeated in a stunned voice, clearly not understanding his question.

"You are nervous, on edge, like you are expecting something," he observed. "What are you afraid of?"

She shook her head adamantly, her hair whipping her face. "No, I just ... alright,_ yes_. I -"

She was interrupted by a howl that sounded far too close for comfort.

"Was that a wolf? Are there wolves out there?" he heard Bilbo ask nervously from the other side of the clearing. Thorin instinctively extended an arm to shield Miss Darrow, drawing her behind him as his eyes searched the trees.

"Wolves? No that is not a wolf," Bofur said nervously, his mattock held at the ready.

There was a snarl from above them and suddenly a warg leapt into the clearing. Thorin shoved Miss Darrow to the ground and swung his sword at the beast, hitting it cleanly in the neck but managing to wedge the blade into the bone. There was another roar from behind him and an arrow sailed past his ear, felling the second warg that had attacked.

"Warg scouts," he growled, yanking his blade free. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf asked urgently.

"No one," he replied firmly.

"Who did you tell?" the Wizard repeated.

"No one, I swear," he vowed, stepping up to the Wizard. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted," Gandalf replied grimly.

_Hunted_. Someone had betrayed their quest, it was the only way orcs could know that they were travelling in the wilderness. He quickly racked his brains, thinking of who he had told about the quest - the company, his sister, Dain – none of whom would betray him. It had even been kept secret from the Dwarves of Ered Luin, who believed that their King was on another ambassadorial mission to see Dain.

Thus far, he could only think of one possible suspect who could have betrayed them.

He turned to glare at their advisor, who was being helped to her feet by Dwalin, his grip white knuckled on the hilt of his sword.

* * *

**Sorry about the slight delay in updating this week (I normally try to do Mondays and Fridays) but starting a full time job and breaking my laptop screen sort of got in the way. This does mean I probably won't be able to update this coming Friday, but I should hopefully have another chapter out by Monday. **

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews – keep 'em coming guys! **

**For this weeks question ... do you ship anyone in The Hobbit? If so, who and why?**


	9. Blood and water

**"Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal**.**"**  
**Friedrich Nietzsche.**

* * *

_Well, I called it_, thought Lizzy as the entire company hastily gathered their packs and started running. Radagast had left moments before, bursting away though the trees with his rabbit-drawn sled. He was quickly followed by the howls of wargs that had sounded terrifyingly close to them.

Gandalf lead the way as the company weaved through the trees and out onto the open plains, taking care to keep close to the rocks for cover. Their packs bounced as they ran and Lizzy's new sword was hanging awkwardly by her side, hitting her leg with every other step. Within minutes of running she was positively gasping, stumbling along at the back beside Bombur and Bilbo, who were equally struggling for breath. She found herself both avidly wishing for a sports bra and regretting not going out for jogs with one of her housemates last year at university, preferring to stay in the warm and watch BBC dramas instead.

She stumbled, almost falling flat on her face, but Bifur grabbed her hand to steady her and made her keep running.

They were pulled to a stop behind a large rock as the orcs rode past a little ahead of them. Lizzy was bent double, her hands on her knees, panting for breath. "Oh god, _ow_," she moaned, moving one hand to press against her side. "Ow, major stitch."

Bifur grunted something in Khuzdul at her.

"Huh?" she said, peering up at him from where she was still bent over.

He exaggeratedly mimed breathing.

"Right, breathe, I can do that," she said, only to groan seconds later when she heard Gandalf saying that the company should stay together and Thorin ordering everyone to get moving.

They were running again for a good few minutes, but it seemed that somehow no matter which direction they went in they came across the orcs again. Ahead of her she saw Thorin grabbing Ori and pulling him back by the collar of his jacket as he almost ran past their protective cover.

"All of you, come on, come on! Quickly!" Gandalf ordered, gesturing for them to go in a new direction. Lizzy simply followed Bifur, allowing herself to be dragged along as she panted and wheezed her way across the vast plains, her calf's protesting fiercely

She was barely paying attention to where she was going, simply focusing on placing one foot in front of another, when she felt herself forced back against a wall with the rest of the company: they were hiding behind one of the larger rocks as a single warg-rider approached. She yelped in surprise as Bifur dragged her to the rock.

"Silence!" Thorin hissed at her. Lizzy desperately tried to calm her noisy breathing, but couldn't control the gasping breaths.

With a faint growl Thorin clamped a hand firmly over her mouth, almost tight enough to hurt, forcing her to breathe through her nose. She stayed stock-still, her eyes undoubtedly wide and stark above Thorin's hand as they darted over the plain, looking for any other orcs. She felt rather than saw him nod at Kili, indicating that he should shoot the warg.

Kili did so, bringing it down with a tremendous racket. Bifur leapt forward from beside her, axe at the ready, slamming it down into the injured creatures neck. The battle was over within seconds, both the warg and the orc lying dead in the grass, but the sound of howls from behind them alerted the company that they had not gone unnoticed.

"Move," Gandalf ordered and Thorin let her go, the faint taste of dust, sweat and leather on her lips. "Run!"

Thorin shoved her roughly forward, making her stumble once more and Bombur grabbed her hand to help her run, this time the company moving at an all out sprint.

They had been running for less than a minute when she heard Gloin shout from behind her, "There they are!"

"This way, quickly," Gandalf roared, leading them towards a large, split rock that she recognised and almost sobbed in relief to see – the Hidden Pass. The Dwarves had slowed to a halt just before the pass, drawing their weapons, not realising that salvation was just in front of them.

Lizzy and Gandalf leapt straight up onto the rock and jumped down the slope – Lizzy scrapped all down the side of one arm on the gravelly ground as she descended since she was wearing her short-sleeved t-shirt, making her wince in pain.

Gandalf helped her to her feet and she examined the graze in the gloom: it looked dirty and had started to bleed sluggishly, but was nothing serious. "They didn't follow, did they?" Gandalf said, looking back up at the light of the plains above them. They could hear the Dwarves shouting to each other and the snarls of the wargs.

"Nope," Lizzy said, leaning against the wall and clutching the vicious stitch in her side, finally managing to get a bit of a handle on her breathing.

Gandalf sighed in resigned annoyance and started climbing the steep slope again with the help of his staff. "This way, you fools!" he cried once he reached the top.

"Come on, move! Quickly, all of you!" she heard Thorin roar from above her.

Moments later Dwarves started sliding down the passage way with Gandalf counting them. The moment everyone was down, with Kili and Thorin coming last, they heard the clear note of a horn and the galloping of hoof-beats. The Dwarves looked surprised, craning their necks and listening to the sounds of battle above them, but Lizzy retained her post by the wall, knowing it was the Elves of Rivendell.

An orc corpse came rolling down the slope, almost hitting her and making her leap away. The Dwarves immediately had weapons trained on it, checking that it was dead. It was the first time she had seen an orc up close in real life and she wrinkled her nose disgustedly at its slime-covered leathery skin and foul stench.

Thorin bent down, plucking an arrow from its neck and examining the head. "_Elves_," he spat in disgust, tossing the arrow away as if it had burned him and turning to give Gandalf an accusing look.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads," Dwalin called, having investigated a little further down the tunnel. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur replied, starting to lead the others forward.

Lizzy made to go after them but was stopped by Thorin wrapping one hand firmly around her wrist, anchoring her in place. She looked quizzically at him, thinking that he must want something since he was keeping her still, but his eyes were fixed on the backs of the company as the last of them turned the corner in the path, leaving them alone by the entrance to the pass.

"Thorin, what -"

She was cut off when he slammed her violently back into the wall, crushing her against her backpack. With his forearm across her throat and his other hand gripping her injured arm, he pinned her between the wall and his body, his eyes cold and burning.

"_Did you betray our quest?"_ he hissed as she spluttered in both surprise and pain from her arm. "Answer me, now!"

"What?" she said, shocked and confused. "No!"

"Did you tell anyone where we were travelling?" he demanded, not letting any of the pressure on her arm and throat up.

She shook her head wildly, more than a little scared of him. "No!"

"You were nervous, you knew the orcs were coming – _how?_" he questioned, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. She let out a squeak of pain and closed her eyes, half expecting a blow.

His hold on her arm suddenly loosened and then he released it completely, though he retained the pressure on her throat. She opened her eyes and saw him looking down at his hand, which was stained with her blood, the anger in his eyes fading slightly and being replaced with surprise. "You're injured," he observed.

"I'm_ fine_, no thanks to you," she insisted, growing angry in turn now that the shock has started to wear off. She pushed at his arm until he released her throat and tried to force him backwards. "What the_ hell_ do you think you're playing at, shoving me like that?"

"How did you know the orcs were coming?" he repeated, grabbing her wrists and holding them between them as she pushed against his chest, the fury growing in his eyes once more.

Lizzy swallowed and shook her head, refusing to answer him.

"You _will_ answer me, Miss Darrow," Thorin said threateningly, leaning ominously over her.

"Thorin!" Gandalf had appeared from around the corner, followed by a surprised Fili and Kili. They had probably been wondering why they had not followed the company. The Wizard was glaring daggers at the Dwarf King who still had her basically pinned to the wall. "Release her."

Keeping his gaze drilled on her, not even having turned at Gandalf's interruption, Thorin slowly released her arms, which fell to hang limply by her side, one wrist sporting a bloody red hand print. "Do you think me a simpleton? You have knowledge that you should not," he said, his voice now low and more controlled. "You know about the map, you knew about the trolls and you knew about the orcs. You will answer every single one of my questions, here and now, until I am satisfied."

Lizzy glanced at Gandalf and then shook her head again.

Thorin slammed his fist into the rock wall beside her head and she let out a small, involuntary peep of fear.

"Thorin!" Fili said with surprising sternness.

"Lizzy, just tell him," Kili added, looking highly perturbed at his uncles actions.

Gandalf turned to the two young Dwarf brothers in dismay. "You told Fili and Kili?" he asked Lizzy.

"Not everything!" she insisted defensively from beneath Thorin's arm, whose turn it was now to look surprised. "They kind of … guessed."

"Guessed _what_?" he growled near her ear, apparently not liking being left out of the loop and not understanding their conversation.

"That was a dangerous thing to do, Elizabeth," Gandalf said wearily, leaning heavily on his staff.

"It wasn't her fault," Fili said in her defence.

Thorin lowered his arm, now glaring at the three of them at the end of the path. "You know what is going on," he said to his nephews, his voice sterner than she had ever heard it. "Tell me, _now_."

Fili and Kili glanced awkwardly at each other, looking vaguely nervous. "We swore not to, it's Lizzy's secret to tell," Kili said eventually after a short silence.

"I can promise you that she didn't betray us though," Fili added seriously.

"That remains to be seen," said Thorin haughtily. He turned back to Lizzy, who couldn't help but shrink against the wall slightly at his thunderous expression. "Explain yourself."

Lizzy took several deep breaths, her gaze flicked up to meet the Dwarf Kings blue eyes. Gandalf hadn't said anything further, so she assumed he wasn't opposed to her explaining a few things to Thorin. However after his heavy-handed interrogation she was rather pissed off at him, so when Bilbo came back around the corner to see what all the fuss was about she took the opportunity to make him stew a little bit as punishment.

"What's going on? Did I hear shouting?" Bilbo asked innocently, looking curiously around the group – to Gandalf, Fili and Kili's grim expressions, Thorin's murderous one and Lizzy's wide eyes.

"Absolutely nothing, we are all frickin' _peachy_ here," she said, ducking out from between Thorin and the wall and going over to take Bilbo by the arm, physically turning him and half pushing him back down the path. "Come on, let's go."

They had barely gone ten steps down the path when she felt Thorin at her back and tensed. "Do not think for one second that this conversation is over, Miss Darrow," he snarled in her ear. "You still owe me an explanation."

Lizzy nodded her understanding without turning round.

* * *

After ensuring their advisor that their conversation wasn't over by any means, Thorin dropped back to walk with his determinedly silent nephews, the Wizard trailing behind them in a cloud of disapproval. To say that his mood was bad would be a severe understatement – not only had Miss Darrow evaded his questions for now, it appeared that there was some great secret that his family had conspired to keep from him.

Still, one way or another, he would wring the answers he wanted from her by the end of the day.

As they walked down the tunnel, with him glaring at her back the whole time, he noticed the blood around one of her slim wrists that was slowly drying to from vivid red to brown. Shame at his treatment of her was beginning to creep up on him: not only had he aggravated her injury, she had actually flinched as if she was expecting him to strike her. When he had entered the tunnel he had been adamant in his belief that she had betrayed them and had responded accordingly – he would have treated any traitor in that manner, regardless of gender, had they threatened the safety of the company.

But now, with both his nephews and the Wizard vouching for her loyalty – somehow, _infuriatingly_, knowing her secret - he wondered if his methods of interrogation had been too harsh.

Ahead of them he saw brightness at the end of the path: Mr Baggins and Miss Darrow drew to a halt, a look of wonder on both their faces. Exiting the path, he saw what had them so enraptured.

Rivendell, the great Elven outpost. A vast, sprawling house of halls and balconies at the far end of a narrow gorge, the River Bruinen spilling between the rocks as a waterfall to cascade merrily though the valley, criss-crossed by narrow bridges. Sunlight flooded the vale, catching on the silver, glass and water, reflecting bright arcs of light that caused the entire house to hold a luminous sheen.

The sight of it enraged him and he ground the handle of his axe into the ground in annoyance.

"The valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced, sounding annoyingly pleased with himself. "In the common tongue it's known by another name."

"Rivendell," Mr Baggins and Miss Darrow said together, still entranced by the house.

"It's even more beautiful than it was in the movie," she added nonsensically.

Thorin turned to Gandalf, his grip tight on his axe. "This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy," he accused, perhaps a little more harshly than he would have done usually due to his heightened temper.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield – and that includes Miss Elizabeth," Gandalf replied, staring him down. "The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" he said cynically. "They will try to stop us."

"I don't think there is a force in the 'verse that could stop you from doing anything once you had put your mind to it, Thorin," Miss Darrow said bitingly, still staring out over the valley.

Thorin glared at her and she immediately fell silent.

"Very true, and we have questions that need to be answered," Gandalf agreed drawing himself up to his full and considerable height. "If we are to be successful then this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm … which is why you will leave the talking to me."

Biting his tongue against further protests, Thorin followed the Wizard down the narrow, rocky path into the valley. There were certain advantages to stopping at this outpost and he was not blind to them – they could indeed get food and rest and perhaps even new ponies, yet he had deemed blow to his pride in asking for aid from the Elves after they had betrayed them to outweigh the benefits.

The company descended into the valley, surrounded by pine trees that gave off a soft scent in the morning air and the sound of birdsong. Despite their preference to being underground, several members of the company were gazing around the tranquil woods with looks of contentment. Mr Baggins appeared to be glowing and was babbling on to Miss Darrow about the few Elves he had met in the Shire.

Their walk was interrupted by the sudden sound of laughter and clear, merry singing burst from the treetops above them.

_O! What are you doing,_

_And where are you going?_

_You all need feeding_

_The river is flowing!_

_O! Tra-la-la-lally_

_here down in the valley!_

_._

_Oh where are you going_

_With beards all a-wagging?_

_No knowing, no knowing_

_what brings Mr Baggins_

_And Balin and Dwalin_

_down into the valley_

_in June! Ha! Ha!_

_._

_O! Where do you roam_

_and where is your home?_

_Fair, strange lady of gold,_

_from what world do you hale?_

_O! tra-la-la-lally,_

_tell one of your tales,_

_to us in the valley!_

Mr Baggins laughed in delight at their song but Miss Darrow looked slightly confused, like she couldn't figure out how the Elves knew she was not from this world – as if her strange clothing did not give her away. Gandalf, however, raised his gaze to the treetops and said, "Hush, good people, hush! Some Elves have over merry tongues. Good day to you!" and the company continued.

They came to a narrow bridge that their Hobbit and advisor crossed with some trepidation, though the Dwarves were untroubled being used to such narrow walkways in their own Halls. Upon crossing the bridge and passing between two large and imposing Elven warrior statues they found themselves in a courtyard, where they gathered awkwardly as they waited for their hosts to appear.

Moments later a tall Elf in a robe buttoned tightly all the way to his chin descended the stairs before them. "Mithrandir," he said in welcoming manner to Gandalf as he reached them.

"Stay sharp," Thorin whispered to Dwalin, disliking the Elf instantly.

The Elf and Wizard spoke for a moment, the company seemingly ignored, until a familiar horn sounded from behind them. Turning, they saw an Elven war party returning, heavily armed and bearing standards, riding huge horses at a fast pace. When they showed no signs of slowing Thorin raised his axe. "Close ranks!" he ordered, sensing a threat.

The Elves quickly surrounded them, riding in a tight circle around them and forcing them all closer together. However, they showed no further signs of attacking aside from numerous disdainful looks down at them that fairly fired his blood in anger.

"Gandalf," one of the Elves called to the Wizard from his horse.

The two of them embraced and spoke briefly, before the Elf, Lord Elrond and the master of this house, turned his attention to the company. Knowing his duty as leader, Thorin reluctantly stepped forward to address him.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," he said in greeting.

"I do not believe we have met," Thorin replied brusquely, a little disconcerted that this Elf knew of him.

"You have your grandfathers bearing," the Elf said. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed?" he replied, tensing at the reference to their former kingdom, the kingdom that the Elves had stood back and watched them loose. "He made no mention of you."

His words were perhaps not as polite as he could have made them, especially since he would shortly be forced to ask the Elf for hospitality for the company, but Lord Elrond simply gave him an appraising look before speaking in Elvish. His Elvish was rusty (his grandfather and father had insisted on him learning numerous languages in his boyhood) after not having spoken it for well over a century, but he understood enough to know that they were being offered food and lodgings.

"What is he saying, does he offer us insult?" Gloin demanded, his axe at the ready.

"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," Gandalf explained, and Thorin could have sworn he saw a look of amusement flash across the Elfs face.

The Dwarves had a quick discussion, mostly consisting of 'I think we should take it' and 'it can't hurt.' Thorin heard Miss Darrow snort and mutter "I can't believe there is even a debate, of _course _we are taking it."

"Ah, well in that case lead on," Gloin said, his tone still a little antagonistic.

Miss Darrow's hand flew straight up into the air, capturing the attention on Lord Elrond. "Yes, my Lady?" he asked, realising she wanted to ask a question.

"Can I get a bath too, please?" she practically begged. "I mean, that would just be _fantastic_."

An indulgent smile crossed Lord Elronds face. "Certainly. Lindir," he said, signalling to the Elf behind him. "Lead the Lady ..." he trailed off expectantly.

"Uh, Elizabeth," she supplied.

"The Lady Elizabeth to the guest wing and have a bath drawn for her. Also, see that someone tends to her injuries," the Elf Lord said. Thorin felt a flash of annoyance at Miss Darrow, recognising that this was her attempt to avoid their conversation a little while longer and escape a situation that she could not control.

"Certainly, my Lord," the other Elf said, stepping forward. He gave the company a mildly disgusted look. "Perhaps her companions would also like to bathe prior to eating," he suggested, his nose wrinkling ever so slightly.

"Yes please!" Mr Baggins said quickly – Thorin could hardly blame him, still having troll slime covering his clothes and dried into his hair, but still couldn't help but be offended at the Elves basically telling them to wash.

"Then let us reconvene later," Lord Elrond said easily. "Please join me for lunch once you have finished in the bath-house."

Miss Darrow stepped forward to take Lindir's proffered arm, but stopped at the sound of his voice. "Miss Darrow, we shall continue our discussion later."

"Thorin," Gandalf said, a note of warning in his voice.

"_Alone_," Thorin added.

"Very well," she said with all the haughtiness of a queen, and was then led into the building by the tall Elf.

* * *

Lizzy didn't think she had ever felt anything so good as piping hot bath water after a month and a half travelling in the wilderness and washing in frigid streams. Her grazed arm stung a little when she first immersed it, but the pain quickly faded. She spent several minutes simply lying in the deliciously hot water, staring up at the beautifully arched ceiling above her as her tangled hair swirled and floated in a cloud around her head.

Irritatingly, she found that she couldn't entirely relax despite her tranquil surroundings. She was in Rivendell, one of the most beautiful places in Middle Earth, the 'perfect house,' as it was described in the books, yet she couldn't stop thinking about a certain, pesky Dwarf King. Her mind whirring with thoughts and anticipation for the upcoming conversation with Thorin - how much could she tell him, and how much would he demand to know? She thought, biting her lip. Would he be satisfied with anything less than the truth?

She sat up with a faint sigh and noticed that the bathwater was tinged sightly brown from all the dust on her skin and hair. Pulling a face at just how filthy she had been, she grabbed one of the wash-cloths and set about scrubbing her body from top to toe before rinsing her hair with fresh water from a jug.

The water had started to cool as she stepped out into a huge, fluffy towel which she wrapped tightly around her body. She made her way to the main room, having been bathing behind a translucent screen in one corner, and rooted through the backpack on her bed. The room itself was beautiful, open and airy with a balcony overlooking the valley and waterfall, and a large bed that looked infinitely more comfortable than the hard ground.

The Elves had taken her underwear, t-shirts and cargo trousers away for washing, for which she was highly grateful. They had left her a beautiful, gauzy looking dress that she was afraid to touch lest she tear it, so she pulled out her spare pair of knickers and the pale blue dress that she had been planning on wearing to the bbq in New Zealand, an entire world away. They had also taken her sturdy walking boots for cleaning, providing her with lace up slippers of soft silk.

She shook out the dress, frowning at the deep creases in the material from being crumpled at the very bottom of her pack, and donned it without a bra, hoping that she wouldn't be forced to run for her life again until her other clothes came back. Ignoring the slippers, she left her feet bare – the cool stone of the floor felt wonderful on the bare soles of her feet after being encased in boots for weeks on end. Her legs were very pale compared to her arms and face, having been covered all the time she had been in Middle Earth. They were also unshaven, but Lizzy couldn't really bring herself to care very much about that – she was lucky enough that the hair there was blonde anyway, so it didn't show up too much. Besides, Dwarves were used to hairy women, they would probably be disturbed if she _didn't_ have hairy legs.

Working the tangles out of her wet hair took a good few minutes and Lizzy was snarling at the comb by the time she was done, having accidentally yanked out several small clumps when she hit a knot.

She had just finished brushing her hair when a soft knock came at the door.

Lizzy swallowed hard and went to answer it, her heart thumping in trepidation.

* * *

Thorin found the Elven bath-houses highly strange. In Ered Luin he was used to dark stone caverns with pools of warm water fed by hot springs and lit by flickering scones. Here, they were forced to bathe in an open-planned building with cool water, a screen of trees for privacy. The Elves offered to wash their clothes, but they declined, not wanting to wear Elven things in the meantime.

He bathed and redressed quickly, secretly grateful to be clean after their run-in with the trolls, yet he was eager to find Miss Darrow and get the answers he sought.

"Thorin," Fili said as he was about to leave the bath-house, still midway through washing. "Don't go too hard on her, will you?"

He scowled, but didn't reply. He was more than a little frustrated at their absolute conviction in her innocence, wondering what fantastical tale she had spun to make his nephews trust her so implicitly.

It took him several minutes to find the guest wing, wandering the labyrinthine corridors and balconies for a while before unbending his pride enough to ask for directions. Finally knowing where he was going, he approached her room, hearing conversation from within.

He rapped sharply on the door.

"Come in," he heard Miss Darrow call from within.

He pushed open the door and immediately scowled, seeing her sitting comfortably on the bed with an the same Elf who had guided her to her room. She hair was hanging damp around her shoulders, the first time he had seen it down since leaving Bag End, and she was wearing a very short, sky-blue dress – scandalously short, not even covering her knees, more of a nightgown for a married woman than a dress to be worn outside.

The Elf was busy bandaging her grazed arm. "Really, it's just a graze Lindir, it doesn't need any medical attention," she was saying to the Elf, and the turned to see who had come in – her face, rosy after being scrubbed clean, paled slightly as she noticed him.

"Very well, my lady," Lindir said, also noticing Thorin and standing. "I shall leave you now, I hope we can continue our discussion about your world during your stay here, it sounds like a fascinating place." He took her hand and bowed over it, making Thorin's frown deepen.

The Elf practically floated out of the room, nodding to Thorin as he passed. He closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the bedroom.

* * *

**Sorry, another cliffhanger … but their conversation is coming in the next chapter!**

**I actually found this chapter rather hard to write – finding the balance between Thorin being angry and downright violent was rather difficult. You have to remember that he utterly believed she had betrayed them, and the fact that she was a woman didn't matter. **

**Reviews are welcome, let me know what you think of the story! You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr _~KindletheStars_**

**This weeks question … Smaug vs the Balrog, who would win?**


	10. The cold bite of death

"_**Hey you, **__**don't tell me there's no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall."**_

**Pink Floyd, **_**Hey You**_

* * *

The silence in the room after the Elf closed the door was deafening. Miss Darrow remained seated on the edge of the bed, her knees together and her arms braced on the coverlet on either side of her. It was a tense and challenging stance as she stared him down, waiting for him to speak.

"Consorting with the enemy now, I see," Thorin observed, still standing near the door on the other side of the room.

"Not all of us can be as delightfully prejudicial as you," she retorted instantly, relaxing ever so slightly as the words left her mouth – she was clearly more comfortable in verbal sword-play where she could hold her own against him rather than facing his silent disapproval. "Have you calmed down?" she asked pointedly, reminding him of his harsh interrogation earlier. "I have no desire to be shoved against any more walls by you."

"Should the explanation you owe me prove to be satisfactory then I will apologise wholeheartedly for that," he said honestly, his brow lowered. "However, if I do deem you to be a traitor then not even the fact that you are a woman will save you from my sword."

"Well, that makes me feel _so_ much better," she said with mild sarcasm that fairly grated on his nerves. "And just because you _want_ an explanation doesn't mean I _owe_ you one."

Thorin took a few slow steps forward, his hand unconsciously on the hilt of his old sword at his hip. "If you want to retain your place in my company then you will cease avoiding my questions. I have no hesitations in dissolving your contract here and now."

Some of the fight seemed to go out of her at that and she gnawed on her bottom lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I'm not sure Gandalf wants me to tell you."

"I do not care what the Wizard wants," he replied steadily.

"You probably won't believe me," she hedged further

He was now standing right in front of where she was sitting on the bed, looming over her. "Try me."

She raised an eyebrow up at him, a slight challenge. "Alright – hell, it might actually make my job easier if you do know the truth and aren't rejecting my advice at every turn," she said, surprising him with her sudden acquiescence to talk. "You know I am from another world, but in my world all of _this _-" she gestured vaguely around her - "is fictional. The Quest for Erebor is like a …_ legend_ in my world, it's a famous story in a book."

Of all the things he had considered – and so far his theories had ranged from her being an orc spy to some kind of witchcraft that granted her foresight – the news that his quest was not only legendary, but also written down and recorded in another world was not something he was expecting.

"You … believe us to be fictional?" he asked, trying to get her highly unanticipated revelation straight in his head.

She rolled her eyes. "Well now I _know_ you to be real – somehow, haven't quite got my head around that one yet," she said, echoing his own thoughts. "But yeah, in my world you are all fictional. Some of my favourite characters, actually," she added with a wry smile.

"And that is how you seem to have knowledge of the future," he inferred slowly, releasing his sword hilt and folding his arms as he stared down at her. "You believe yourself to be … living a legend."

She flicked a finger at him. "Bingo," she said nonsensically, though from her tone she appeared to be implying that he was correct.

"The trolls, the orcs, even Mr Baggins joining the company … it is all recounted in a book in your world, that's how you knew about them," he said, his eyes narrowed at her.

She nodded vigorously, her lips pressed together.

"Is there any way you can prove this?" he asked, more out of curiosity than actual doubt.

"Umm..." Miss Darrow thought for a moment, her head cocked to one side. Her face suddenly brightened and she pointed at his shoulder, where the hilt of his new sword was visible from its place across his back. "Your sword, it's called Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver. It was forged by the High Elves of the West," she rattled off quickly. "And Gandalf's is called Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer."

He blinked at her in surprise, she had not seen his new weapon up close so there was no way she could have seen the inscription on the blade: Orcrist was one of the words he had deciphered among the runes while cleaning it and he had assumed it was a foreign word, like the others, but it appeared that it was the swords name.

Her own sword, which she had failed to mention, had been tossed haphazardly onto the bed beside her open pack, though he noticed that she had taken the time to wipe some of the dust and cobwebs from it.

"Even if this book did detail such things, how would I confirm it?" he wanted to know.

"Take it to lunch, Elrond will tell you," she said confidently.

He nodded slowly, digesting everything she had said in silence. "Do we succeed?" he asked eventually. "In the legend you know, do we succeed?"

It was her turn to blink up at him. "Wait, you actually _believe_ me?" she said, a note of incredulity in her voice.

"It is … a reasonable explanation and it fits the facts, though I still intend to apply to Lord Elrond to see if what you say about my sword is true," he said logically. "I had wondered how you knew so much of our affairs when we first met, but if you have knowledge of the future then I can understand why Gandalf recruited you as our advisor." He gave her the smallest of smiles. "It is certainly preferable to thinking you a spy or traitor."

"Oh," she said, still blinking up at him. "Well … good." She suddenly grinned at him. "Wow, that whole conversation felt a little anticlimactic, I thought you were going to bite my head off."

His confusion at her statement must have been obvious since she added, "It's an expression from my world, it means to tell someone off."

He nodded his understanding: after his earlier behaviour towards her she was right to think he might have reacted angrily – indeed, depending on her explanation, he'd had every intention of banishing her from the company. "I notice that you did not answer my previous question," Thorin said. "Do we succeed?"

"I don't want to give you any spoilers," she said with a smile that could only be described as mischievous. "You should never skip ahead to the end of a book, it ruins the story."

"Why are you here then, if not to tell us our fate?" he questioned.

She rolled her eyes again. "I wasn't bought here to be a _fortune teller_, Thorin," she said patronisingly. "I am meant to be changing things."

That revelation made his thoughts halt in their tracks. "Changing things?" he repeated, trepidation creeping up on him. "Meaning that events do not go entirely to plan in the story that you know?"

The sudden guilty look on her face told him that he had hit near the mark with this deduction, his sense of dread increasing. "What happens?"

Miss Darrow stood up from the bed and made for the door, stepping around him – his eyes darted briefly downwards as she stood: her dress had strange, asymmetrical seams that caused it to hug the curves of her slender body, the hem stopping just short of her knees. "You know, we should probably go and find the others," she said with determined airiness.

He grabbed her uninjured arm as she passed him. "What were you sent here to change?" he demanded, forcing himself to keep his gaze on her face.

She shook off his grip and continued towards the door – moving quickly, he reached it first and held it closed with one hand flat on the wood as she tugged fruitlessly on the handle. Despite their similarity in height, he found himself towering over her and she looked up at him. "They will probably be serving lunch soon," she said entreatingly, clearly wanting their conversation to be at an end.

"You are stalling, Miss Darrow," he said sternly, once again determined to get answers from her.

She tugged at the handle again, but to no avail. "Not going to let me out of this room until I tell you, huh?" she said resignedly.

"It seems we are beginning to understand one another," he said, confirming her words. "What did Gandalf send you here to change?"

She bit her full lower lip again, her teeth very white against the pink flesh. From his close proximity he noticed for the first time that her face was covered by a faint dusting of freckles, no doubt a result of riding in the May and June sunshine the past few weeks. "I'm not sure I should tell you," she said softly, one shoulder raised awkwardly.

"I deserve to know if any of my company is in danger, Miss Darrow," he said softly.

She looked down at her feet, avoiding his eyes.

"They _are_ in danger," he breathed, his heart clenching in panic and sudden guilt – was he leading some of them, his closest friends and kin, to their deaths? "Who? What happens?"

"I shouldn't tell you," she whispered miserably, her eyes on his chest.

"Miss Darrow," he implored, more worried than he had ever been in his life; when she failed to respond he added with greater sternness, "_Elizabeth_."

Her gaze darted up to his. "I … alright, _fine_," she said, giving in. "No specifics – no hows or whens – oh God, I don't know if I should even be telling you this ..." she trailed off, covering her face with her hands.

Releasing the door, he tugged at her hands away from her face, holding her wrists in the air between them as he had done earlier that very morning. "Tell me," he quietly commanded and she sighed in resignation.

" … Fili and Kili are going to die," she said softly, her eyes wide and sad.

"What?" he said, the word an almost inaudible small puff of air from his lips.

"You reclaim the mountain and become king, but they will die," she repeated, sounding positively wretched.

Thorin released her and walked aimlessly away from the door to the middle of the room, thinking hard. His worse fears were confirmed, loosing his nephews would be the end of his world. He was like a father to both. When Fili had been born he had played the role of devoted uncle, looking after the lad and taking him to the forge to teach him the basics of the craft – he would not be a miner like his father, smithing was a more respectable profession for his heir. But when Dis's husband had died in a mining accident before Kili was even born he had taken a greater parental role, moving into his sisters home to help her in her time of need. He had witnessed Kili's first smile, steps and words and had only grown closer to Fili as his eldest nephew mourned the father he had barely known.

He couldn't loose them, not after the heartache of loosing Frerin so young. He wouldn't survive it.

"Thorin?" There was a tentative touch on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you," Miss Darrow said from close behind him, her voice soft and utterly free of its usual sarcastic lilt.

A decision made, he turned suddenly and headed to to door – Miss Darrow slipped in front of him, standing before the door. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sending them home," he said, staring at her as if he could move her away from the door with his eyes alone. "I was hesitant to allow them on this quest in the first place, but knowing this -"

"You can't!" she said, surprising him with her arms spread slightly in front of the door.

"I can and I will," he said determinedly – it was his hand on the handle now and her barring his way. "Step aside."

She shook her head, in something of a panic. "No, I won't let you."

"Step aside Miss Darrow, or I shall move you out of the way myself," he threatened, his face close to hers.

"If you want to succeed then they stay in the company," she said, raising her chin and refusing to move.

"My nephews are like sons to me, I love them more than anything else in the world," the growled, leaning over her. "If you think that I would _sacrifice _them to reclaim my kingdom -"

"You _don't!_" she interrupted. "You don't sacrifice them Thorin. Just _listen_ to me for a moment, will you?

Summoning patience with great difficulty, he released the door handle and folded his arms before her. She took a deep breath. "You need them if you want to succeed and that's why you need me – Gandalf sent me here to _save_ them."

"And you think you can?" he asked, looking at her with his chin tilted down and his brows lowered.

She bit her lip once more. "I think I can try."

"Do they know?" he questioned. "They knew your secret, do they know – _this_?" he said, unable to even finish the sentence.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "They don't know anything about the story, only that I know what will happen on the quest."

"If you told me _how_ they -"

"_No_," she interrupted again. "No, you shouldn't know anything about the future – do you know how dangerous it is, you knowing? Jesus, I've watched enough Doctor Who to know that this could potentially go all kinds of screwy."

He blinked in confusion at her nonsensical words, but she hadn't finished. "I've probably told you too much already, I could change the entire story."

"What does that matter?" he demanded. "So a story in another world changes, at least they will be safe. In fact, I have half a mind to turn this entire company around and return to Ered Luin."

This was true: for the first time he was truly doubting his mission. His people had a comfortable life in Ered Luin, a life that was well on it's way to prosperity. He could leave the hallowed riches and grandeur of their former kingdom in the past and instead direct his energies in creating a better future for the his people in their new home. Over time his halls in Ered Luin would become a new Erebor – he may not live to see its glory peak, but he could establish its beginning.

"No, you don't get it – it's important in _this_ world," Miss Darrow said, gesturing with her hands in clear agitation. "Look, your quest is legendary for a reason, there are certain things that happen that have a _huge_ knock on effect on history – if you don't continue then the entire fate of Middle Earth changes. This is so much more than just Fili and Kili."

He glared at her, his voice a low growl. "There is nothing more than them, not to me."

"Then let me _save_ them, let me do what I was bought here to do," she entreated.

Thorin turned away from her, pacing the space between the door and her bed. While he could establish a new beginning for his people, to do so would only be a bandage on a wound that festered beneath its cover. His heart yearned for their true home, the home his people deserved – and if there was a way he could indeed give it to them without putting his nephews at risk …

"You do succeed, Thorin," she said, echoing his thoughts. "You reclaim your lost kingdom and gold, and the Dwarves have a new age of prosperity … So let me worry about Fili and Kili."

He ceased his pacing to look at her, still standing in front of the door but no longer barring it closed with her body. Her grey eyes were huge and beseeching, yet he sensed that she was still hiding something, that she hadn't told him everything she knew about their quest.

"Thorin?" she said, and he realised he had been staring at her in silence.

He sighed and sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. "Do you truly believe you can save them?"

"I hope so," she said softly, and cautiously came over to sit down next to him on the coverlet. "I'll just knock them both over the head right before they run headlong into danger."

He gave a small, sad smile at that – while he appreciated her effort to lighten the mood, he couldn't help but wonder if she had spoken thus because his nephews met their end through their own recklessness.

"And if you fail?" he heard himself ask, turning his head to meet her eyes.

Her lips parted to speak, but a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she said instead, turning to the doorway.

The door opened to reveal the same Elf who had left the room several minutes previously. He saw Thorin sitting close with her on the bed and his fine brows lifted minutely. "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Elrond requested that I escort you to lunch, my lady."

"She does not need an escort," Thorin growled at the Elf, annoyed at his presumption: from the way the Elf had been talking to Miss Darrow earlier, he doubted that _escorting_ her was all he had in mind. "Tell Lord Elrond we will be there presently."

"Very well," the Elf said mildly, pointedly leaving the door wide open as he left.

There was a long silence in the room. "Shall we?" she said eventually, getting to her feet and looking down at him. He noticed for the first time that her small feet were bare and she didn't seem to have any intention of putting on the delicate, lace-up slippers that the elves had left out for her.

Wordlessly, he rose also. She made for the door but he stopped her by clearing his throat. "Aren't you forgetting something, Miss Darrow?" he said, holding the sheathed sword he had collected from the bed out to her

"I hardly think I am going to need that here," she said, her sarcastic tone returning.

He continued to hold it out. She rolled her eyes and took it from him, electing to hold it instead of attempting to attach it to her dress, and the two of them headed from the room.

* * *

Lizzy walked barefoot beside Thorin as they left her temporary bedroom, occasionally giving him sidelong glances. Their conversation had not been what she was expecting at all – she had thought she would have to deal with more anger from him, as well as disbelief in her story, but surprisingly he had accepted her word at face value, barely batting an eyelid at her fantastical tale until she had mentioned changing things.

Now his face was grim, no doubt brooding on what she had told him.

After a few minutes of walking the labyrinthine corridors in silence it became apparent that neither of them knew where they were going – subsequently, they had to ask for directions, to Thorin's scowling displeasure, and were the last to arrive on the balcony where the rest of the company was already assembled, smelling distinctly fresher than when she had last seen them. Thorin's gaze went instantly to where Fili and Kili were sitting, as if to reassure himself that no harm had befallen them while he had been gone.

Lizzy was surprised to find that a place had been set for her at Elrond's table, smiling absently at Lindir as he pulled out a chair for her. She took her seat and propped her sword awkwardly against the table. Thorin instantly handed his own sword to Elrond, ignoring the fact that the Elf was eating.

"Can you tell us anything of these weapons?" he demanded, taking his own seat.

"Is the dinner table really an appropriate place, Thorin?" Gandalf said disapprovingly, but Elrond simply lowered his knife and fork without complaint and examined the blade, starting with its sheath.

"_Born from the maw of dragons, I am always hungry and thirsty,_" he read on the sheath, his fingers tracing over runes. He partially drew the sword, looking at the blade itself. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver. Forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin." He handed it back to Thorin, who took it with a gracious nod. "A famous blade, may it serve you well."

Thorin met her eyes over the table and she smiled at him, knowing her words had been confirmed.

Despite his previous protests, Gandalf passed over his sword to Elrond as well. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, the sword of King Turgon of Gondolin. These swords were forged for the Goblin wars of the first age, they have been thought to be lost for many hundreds of years."

Lord Elrond gave her an expectant look. "May I?" he said, his hand outstretched towards her.

"Hmm?" she said questioningly around a mouthful of salad – fresh vegetables were delicious after weeks living of gradually going-off fare.

"Your sword," Thorin prompted.

"Oh," she said, picking it up from where it rested beside her and handing it over.

The Elf's eyes brightened as he examined the sword. "_Mine is the final sleep under stars, the cold bite of death_," he translated from the runes on the blade. "Well do I remember this sword, it was taken at the sacking of Sirion. Crafted at the same time as the other two as a gift for King Turgon's daughter, Idril, though it has never seen battle. She was the mother of Earendil, my father," he said, handing it back to her.

"Does it have a name?" Lizzy asked curiously.

"Naethring, the cold bite," Elrond said. "The three blades are a matched set, forged together. How did you come by them?" he asked, intrigued.

"We found them in a troll-hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," Gandalf told him.

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?"

"It is still the safest path to travel between Ered Luin and the Misty Mountains, is it not?" Thorin put to him, apparently not liking the Elf's tone.

"Perhaps no longer if you were attacked on the road," Elrond pointed out, and the conversation drifted into the state of various roads and the frequency of attacks.

Lizzy remained silent as the three men talked, one hand running over the hilt of the blade in her lap. Naethring, _the cold bite of death_. She looked at Thorin – she hadn't said a word to him about what she knew of his own death after he fell prey to the gold sickness. She thought she might be able to save Fili and Kili: with Thorin just as eager to protect them she would get him to forbid them to fight in the Battle of the Five Armies and then they would be safe, but was there any way she could save him too?

* * *

Fili sat quietly with the company, his gaze fixed on the other table as he watched the conversation. Lizzy had walked in beside Thorin wearing a dress that would be considered frankly disgraceful in their culture, her legs bare above the knee and her hair down around her shoulders. It was probably good that Dori was busy scolding Ori into eating and hadn't noticed her clothes: he would not have put it passed the older Dwarf to go and cover her with his cloak for modesty, which he knew Lizzy would have hated and protested vehemently against.

She and Thorin must have has a reconciliation of some sort despite the fact he had left the bath-house with thunderclouds around his head. Interestingly, as they approached the table Fili had seen the same Elf that greeted them politely hold out Lizzy's chair and Thorin clench his fists in response.

It had been strange and highly disturbing seeing him threatening her. As they had told Lizzy a few weeks ago, women were protected and respected in their culture. Then again, they had never stopped to consider what Thorin would make of Lizzy and her unusual knowledge: in hindsight she hadn't been particularly careful, practically flaunting it when she advised them to make their bets.

The two of them shared a long, lingering look over the table, with Lizzy smiling slightly as Thorin was handed back his sword from the Elf Lord. As the conversation continued he noticed Lizzy gazing speculatively at his uncle, her head tilted to one side – Fili suppressed a sigh, wondering if he would shortly be forced to pay Kili his ten gold.

* * *

Thorin rose from his seat the moment the meal and boring small talk was finished, unconsciously extending a hand to help Miss Darrow to her feet also. She simply stared at his hand with a slightly surprised expression and he tilted his head pointedly towards the stairs down to the gardens at the far end of the balcony. She briefly accepted his hand and rose, following him as they left the others.

"We're not joining the rest of the company?" she asked as they descended the stairs.

"No, there are a few more things I wish to discuss with you," he told her. He was honestly surprised that he had managed to get through lunch and actually make civil conversation with his head still swirling from her revelation.

"You didn't ask about the map," she observed as they reached the gardens. Mindful of her bare feet, they took a meandering route across the grass instead of sticking to the gravel paths.

"Can you not just tell me what it says?" he queried, watching out of the corner of his eye as she tilted her face back to bask in the June sunshine while they walked. He wondered how she could appear so carefree despite the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, eventually attributing it to their tranquil surroundings. She seemed at home here, far more so than any of the others in the company. He had noticed a similar serenity in Mr Baggins while they had been in the bath-house, whereas he found himself constantly on edge around the stink of Elf.

She shook her head. "I don't remember the exact wording and those sorts of things are kind of important."

He inclined his head, accepting her words. "Very well, I will ask later," he said, hiding his disappointment – after she had mentioned the map he found himself hoping she could decipher it and he would not be forced to ask the Elves for further aid.

"What day is it today?" she asked suddenly.

"The twenty-first of June."

"So Midsummer's Eve?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Make sure you ask tonight, that's important too."

He glanced at her but didn't comment: no doubt he would understand the meaning of her words when he asked Lord Elrond about the map later.

They reached a small, shady grove of trees and Thorin stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Miss Darrow, regarding what you said earlier about my nephews ..."

He trailed off, noticing her distraction: her wide eyes were fixed at something over his shoulder, her lips parted in surprise. Turning to follow her gaze, he saw a very tall and fair Elf woman approaching them silently, clad in white. Her hair shone like the purest gold in the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the trees and her eyes were deep pools of blue that seemed to sear right down into his soul.

"Lady Galadriel," Miss Darrow murmured in quiet awe.

The Elf smiled softy at her and turned her piercing gaze to Thorin. "Pardon the intrusion, I wish a word with your companion."

* * *

**Sorry, another (sort of) cliffhanger, but not as bad as the last one ...**

**I thought it was really interesting how divided everyone was over the dragon/balrog question – reviews were pretty much split down the middle either way!**

**So, what did you think of this chapter? Some Fili pov snuck in there at the end, which wasn't planned, and I'm curious to know what you think of her sword - coming up with a name took a while!**

**So please leave a review, I love hearing from you guys!**

**And if you do review answer me this too … favourite quote from Tolkien (books or films)?**

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask any questions you like about the story or characters on my tumblr ~_Kindle-the-Stars_**


	11. A single radiant star

_** 'When you tear out a man's tongue you are not proving him a liar, you are only telling the world you fear what he might say.'**_

******George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire**

* * *

Thorin seemed positively affronted at the Elven lady's approach, partially moving to stand in front of her as if to block her from sight, but Lizzy was awed. Lady Galadriel was simply beautiful: her skin was lily-white and her golden hair hung in soft waves down to her waist, augmented by a circlet of white-gold. The dress she wore was white and silver, extending in a trail behind her. Sunlight seemed to dance around her, weaved like gossamer threads into an ethereal, luminous sheen.

"What business can an Elf possibly have with a member of my company?" Thorin asked in a frankly rude manner, his brow creased in a frown.

"For Gods sake, Thorin," Lizzy hissed in annoyance, resisting the urge to add a _shut up_ with great difficulty as she stepped around him. "Yes, my lady, what can I do for you?"

The lady gestured elegantly with one white hand and they followed her into the trees, approaching a cheerfully bubbling stream. Thorin kept one hand on her arm, half holding her back. "What do you think you're doing?" she whispered as they walked.

"I do not trust her," he replied, making no effort to keep his voice low.

Lizzy rolled her eyes and shook herself free of his hand. Lady Galadriel had led them to a little waterfall that fed the stream. The water fell like silver into a crystal clear pool before spilling over the lower edge to join the stream and run away among the green trees. She stood beside this small, natural basin, watching them silently.

"While I cannot restore you to your world, I can offer you a glimpse through the void, should you wish it," she said to Lizzy eventually, her voice deep and compelling. "I understand you are already acquainted with the nature of my power."

She nodded, wondering what the lady could show her – could she perhaps see her family, her little brother Peter, the one that she had left alone in New Zealand? She had been doing her best not to think of them too much while she had been in Middle Earth, but at the mention of her world memories and a terrible, longing heartache came rushing back.

She stepped forward, but Thorin stopped her once more with a hand on her arm.

"I assure you it is quite safe, Thorin Oakenshield," Lady Galadriel said, unoffended by his manner. "You too are also welcome to look in the mirror."

"And what will we see if we look?" Thorin asked cautiously, still holding her back protectively.

"Things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass."

Both Thorin and Lady Galadriel turned to look at her, one surprised and the other hiding a smile that was both amused and knowing. "Sorry, couldn't resist," Lizzy added quietly, feeling a bit foolish after quoting _The Lord of the Rings _at them.

Lady Galadriel turned her smiling face back to Thorin. "Your companion is right. The mirror shows many things, including the road ahead of you."

"I thought the mirror was in Lothlorien?" Lizzy questioned with a slight frown.

The lady inclined her head, acknowledging her point. "The mirror is but a focusing tool, the power comes from me," she said, one white hand on her chest. Lizzy noticed the beautiful silver and diamond ring on one finger, shining like a single star. "Do you desire to look?"

"Yes," she said, walking forwards – this time Thorin made no attempt to stop her, though she was aware of him lingering a little behind her as she approached the pool. She stepped up to the stream and cautiously looked down into the natural basin of water, seeing only the dappled stones at the bottom and the reflection of leafy trees above her. She glanced up at Lady Galadriel, the Elven-lady's attention was focused on the mirror.

Looking back down she saw the reflection of leaves stirring and dancing as if in a great wind. A breeze rippled over the surface of the water, leaving a new image in its wake. She saw herself as a young child in their back garden at home, holding a stick as a make-shift sword and play-fighting with her brothers, her dress splattered with mud. She saw a sumptuous Christmas dinner from a few years ago, where they'd had her grandparents and cousins around to eat, all of them wearing ridiculous jumpers. She saw herself walking through her university campus on a sunny day, then her going out drinking and dancing with her friends.

Images came even more rapidly – her older brothers wedding, her graduation, the family in hospital the day her little niece was born, her and Peter being waved off at the airport and, finally, her twirling on a ridge in New Zealand, high above a sparkling lake.

The breeze returned, distorting the images and changing them. Now she saw herself laughing with Fili and Kili as they tried to teach her archery, her helping a smiling Bombur cook, her stealing Bofur's hat, her sitting with Ori to look at his journal and sign-language with Bifur, all events from the past few weeks in the wilderness. The final image was one she didn't recognise – she was sleeping in a grassy meadow in bright sunshine and Thorin was sitting beside her, his sword across his lap as if he was keeping watch.

Lizzy looked questioningly up at Lady Galadriel.

_Many choices lay before you, Elizabeth Darrow, _she heard the lady say in her head._ And many hardships. _

Returning her gaze to the water, she saw that the tranquil picture had been replaced by what was quite clearly a battlefield. She recognised Fili, practically black with splattered blood, fighting a monstrous orc: he held his own well until another orc came and attacked from behind, stabbing him mercilessly through the back with a vicious looking scimitar.

"No," she whispered in horror as the scene changed to Kili screaming in anguish as he held his brothers body cradled in his arms, looking hopelessly around him with three black feathered arrows protruding from his own battered armour. In his grief he was oblivious to the orc that approached, sword poised for the death-blow.

_It is what will come to pass if you should fail_, Lady Galadriel said in her mind and the image changed once more to Thorin's body being borne on a pyre at the head of a solemn procession, the Arkenstone clasped between his hands on his chest. He might have been sleeping, were it not for the deathly-white pallor of his skin and lips.

"Alright, _alright_ I get it," Lizzy said, her voice tinged with fright and dismay. With difficulty she broke away from the allure of the water, stumbling backwards a few steps until she was caught and steadied by Thorin. The sight of him – so solid and _alive_, looking at her in concern – after her vision was simply too much. She brushed off his hands. "I'll see you later," she muttered, already backing away.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I just … I need to be alone for a while," she said, feeling utterly overwhelmed by both fear and the suddenly increased weight of responsibility on her. Without even a second glance at the lady, Lizzy simply turned and fled.

* * *

Thorin watched her dash off into the trees in the direction of Rivendell like a startled fawn, vanishing in a flash of blue as the hem of her dress whipped around a tree. He had studied her as she'd looked into the water and whatever visions she was being shown had obviously started off happily: she had watched with a surprised smile on her face which abruptly turned to sorrow and despair before she had stumbled back in fear. She was clearly spooked by what mirror had shown her, barely able to look him in the eyes before fleeing.

"What did you show her?" he snarled at the Elf-witch, his hand unconsciously on his sword hilt.

"It is for her eyes only," the woman said, her voice holding a timbre of sadness. She turned her vivid blue gaze from the trees that Miss Darrow had just vanished into to him, piercing him with their brightness. "Do you also desire to look?"

He opened his mouth, intending a vehement refusal, but then remembered what she had said about the mirror potentially showing him the road ahead. He found himself wondering if he would see a way in which he could save Fili and Kili from whatever fate Miss Darrow's book believed would befall them and realised that he could not afford to pass up the Elf-woman's offer.

He reluctantly stepped forward and looked down into the basin, seeing only stones through the clear water. He was about to move away and dismiss this Elf-magic as hokum when the dark grey of the stones seemed to seep into the water until the entire pool was swirling inky black. A single radiant star burned in the centre of the darkness and the image slowly coalesced into the throne-room of Erebor, the star being the Arkenstone sparkling brightly in its pride of place above the throne.

He saw himself standing before the throne talking to Fili and Kili with a young, dark haired boy that he didn't recognise by his side. The lad was holding his hand, looking up at him with silvery eyes as he spoke to his nephews. All were richly dressed and he was wearing the crown of Thror, clearly King Under the Mountain.

"_Adad!_" he heard as if from far away, the voice distorted by water. A tiny little girl ran into the throne-room and his vision-self laughingly swept her up into his arms.

"Is this the future?" he asked the lady in surprise, recognising himself as both a king and father to these two children.

"It is a possible future," she told him, her voice musical but still deeper than most women's. "You are one of the few in this world who is truly free to decide their own destiny."

As he puzzled over the lady's words the image of family in the water was consumed by fire – he recognised Lake Town being attacked by Smaug and saw people screaming, running for their lives as homes and buildings were razed to the ground in seconds.

All of a sudden he heard the lady's voice clear and loud in his head. _You would be wise to heed the advice of your companion throughout this venture. She knows much and is stronger than you give her credit for._

* * *

Once she stopped running Lizzy wandered aimlessly through the trees, the bright sunlight and soft scent of crushed pine needles soothing to her frazzled nerves. She was undeniably traumatised by what she had seen in the mirror and kept playing the images of Fili and Kili's deaths over and over as she walked. She had known from the start that Gandalf wanted her to save them – or at least one of them, so that the line of Durin would continue, or some such nonsense – but seeing their deaths played out before her in vivid, graphic detail had only emphasised the responsibility that the Wizard had placed on her shoulders.

Thorin has asked her only that morning what would happen if she failed and she hadn't answered him – the answer she now gave herself was that if she somehow couldn't save them then she would never forgive herself.

She saw Bilbo walking slowly along one of the balconies as she approached the house and instantly called out to him to get his attention. Once he had stopped to wait for her, she hurried up the small set of stairs to meet him, still awkwardly holding her new sword in one hand.

He immediately frowned at her, his face crumpling in concern. "What's wrong, why are you crying?"

Lizzy touched her face, feeling the wet streaks on her cheeks, and realised that tears must have been falling silently as she walked without her noticing. "Allergies," she answered as casually as she could, hurriedly wiping them away with the backs of her hands. "All that pollen, you know?"

Bilbo offered her the neatly folded handkerchief he had bought in Bree, "Freshly laundered, by the Elves," he assured her with a friendly smile.

"Thanks," she said as she took it gratefully and removed all evidence of her tears. "What were you doing?" she asked the Hobbit.

"Just exploring really," he replied, looking about them dreamily.

"Me too, mind if I join you?" she asked quickly, wanting a distraction after what the mirror had shown her.

"Of course not," Bilbo replied, politely offering her his arm as they walked. She had to stoop a little, but took it nevertheless. They slowly made their way around the side of the building, utilising various balconies, walkways and gazebo type structures, gazing at the amazing architecture and the beautiful scenery of the valley. There was little need for conversation, both of them wrapped up in the tranquillity of their surroundings. They passed several Elves, who nodded graciously at them and smiled softly once they had passed, amused at the unlikely duo of Hobbit and woman both walking with bare feet.

"So what do you think?" Lizzy put to him as they headed inside.

"I think it's _wonderful_," Bilbo said, his expression beatific. "I found a large hall earlier called the Hall of Fire, where a fire is always lit. People can just go there to sit quietly and think or write, but it is used as a gathering place in times of celebration."

Bilbo started talking happily about the Elves as they explored, telling her all about the Elves he had met in the Shire and the kinds of stories they had told him. She was happy to let him talk, finding his cheerful and carefree voice soothing. They walked passed various halls and rooms, accidentally disturbing Gandalf and Elrond in his study, before they came to a large room with a collection of paintings, statues and relics.

She examined a remarkable helm with the likeness of a dragon before moving on to look at the pictures. There were many of them spanning the walls and as she walked along she realised that it was a visual history of Middle Earth.

She spent some time in front of a collection of paintings detailing the events of the story she knew as the Silmarillion. She trailed her hand over a painting of Melkor with his crown containing the three Silmarils, moving on to one showing how they were eventually won from him. The three paintings that interested her most portrayed the fate of each of the the jewels: one on the breast of a great white bird, carried over the sea to a ship which undertook a voyage into the dark abyss with the Silmaril becoming the Morning Star; one cast into the sea with a sorrowful Elf walking the shores mourning its loss; and one cast into the fiery abyss of the earth.

Lizzy was amazed at the sheer amount of history there was within Middle Earth. She found herself wondering how all of this was possible – did Tolkien somehow _create_ this world, or did it exist prior to the books? Perhaps, somehow, he too had visited this place.

Crossing the room to more recent pictures, she found one that she recognised as Sauron's downfall, Isildur holding his fathers shining, broken sword up defensively. Turning, she saw a statue of a woman with her arms outstretched, the broken sword resting on a plinth between them.

Suppressing a gasp, she ascended the few steps to look at the sword properly, amazed by this piece of history in front of her and awed that she knew what would become of it.

"It must be Elendil's sword," Bilbo said, coming up behind her and glancing between the broken sword and the painting.

"It is," she said quietly, tentatively touching the hilt.

Suddenly getting the impression that they were being watched, Lizzy turned quickly to see a small, dark haired child, little over the age of ten, gazing at them curiously with light eyes and holding a slim book in one hand.

"Estel?" she heard someone call from another room and the boy looked over his shoulder, grinned at them once more and ran away. Lizzy smiled at his back, recognising the name as the one Aragorn used in his youth. It was one thing to be essentially living _The Hobbit, _but seeing young characters from_ The Lord of the Rings_ was a whole new level of strange and exciting.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked, looking from the boy that had just ran away to her silly smile.

"Nothing, just having a bit of a meta-moment," she said and took Bilbo's arm again. "Come on, let's go find the library."

* * *

After leaving the Elf-witch in the grove of trees Thorin spent some time wandering the vast gardens of Rivendell, reluctantly appreciating their beauty and tranquillity. Several times he heard the merry singing of Elves ahead of him, and so turned in another direction to continue walking. As such, he had soon wandered so far and been turned around so many times that he had completely lost all sense of direction regarding the location of the house.

He found himself beside the rock wall of the valley and followed it in the direction he believed the house to be in until he found a large waterfall that spilt down into one of the many rivers. Discovering a small, natural cave behind the flowing water, he slowly edged his way inside while managing not to get too wet. The result was cocoon of stone, blocked off from the rest of the world by the flowing water, the sunlight distorted by the waterfall and filtering in to dance on the walls of the cave.

He sat down against the cave wall to think. The entire day had been far too eventful for his liking, their incident with the trolls that morning seeming an entire lifetime ago. He felt exhausted after the vast spectrum of emotions and revelations that he had undergone that day, almost all of them centring around their mysterious advisor.

Only now she was not so mysterious, he knew her secret. As strange and fantastical as it sounded, she did indeed have foreknowledge of their quest because it was detailed in a book in her world.

The Elf-woman's visions had simply left him with more questions, the most intriguing of which were the two children that were in the possible future she had shown him. He had never thought to have a wife, too busy running his halls in Ered Luin. He had always assumed that Fili would succeed him, having no children of his own, but now it was apparently a possibility to be considered.

He spent several hours quietly sitting and listening to the flowing water, dwelling on what Miss Darrow had said about both his nephews and the fact that he did indeed become King Under the Mountain. When he opened his eyes again he noticed that the quality of the light had faded slightly, and so decided to start making his way back to the main house, remembering what Miss Darrow had said regarding the necessity to ask about the map.

With the setting sun to guide him he easily made his way to the western side of the valley, finding the house with more ease than he had expected though it was dark by the time he returned. Walking around the balconies and staircases, he found the courtyard where the company was assembled, with Bofur and Bifur cooking meat for them all after their less than satisfactory fare at lunch.

He noticed Miss Darrow curled up into a ball beside his nephews, her arms tight around her knees and her sword sitting next to her. She still looked troubled, haunted even, her grey eyes very wide as they starred out into the gathering darkness.

"Balin," he said quietly to get his friends attention, not wanting to engage the entire company. "Come."

"Where are we going?" the older Dwarf asked as he clambered to his feet.

"To find Gandalf and our host," he replied.

"They were in the study earlier," Bilbo chimed in from where he had been sitting next to Balin.

"In that case, lead the way Master Baggins," Thorin ordered, neither knowing where the study was nor wanting to ask any Elves for directions for the third time that day. Mr Baggins got to his feet as well and the three of them slipped quietly away into the house.

"What do we need the Elf for?" Balin asked as they walked.

"To read the map," Thorin said brusquely.

"Thorin, no," his old friend said in alarm. "It is the legacy of our people, its secrets are not the business of Elves."

There was a time when he might have agreed with his friend, even stubbornly refused to show the Elf the map, but after talking to Miss Darrow he was willing to accept the blow to his pride in asking the Elves for aid. "It is the only way," he replied, and rapped his knuckles sharply on the door that the Hobbit identified as the study.

* * *

Darkness was falling and Bilbo had started talking about dinner, so he had led the way to a small courtyard that the Dwarves had commandeered for the evening, apparently not wanting to take guest-rooms. Sure enough, they found the Dwarves around a little fire, roasting meat to complement the vegetarian fare they'd had at lunch, though Thorin was still absent.

Lizzy wordlessly made her way over to a small divan, where Fili and Kili were sitting smoking. The sight of them alive and carefree after her vision that afternoon did strange things to her heart, with it at once lifting and sinking in despair. Wordlessly, she sat down next to them with her legs up, resting her chin on her knees.

"You and Thorin seemed to be getting along better at lunch," Fili observed after a few minutes comfortable silence, not even looking up from where he was fiddling with his pipe.

"We cleared a few things up," she replied with deliberate vagueness.

"How'd that go?" Kili asked curiously.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Lizzy said with a small, sideways smile, and then dropped her voice to a whisper. "I told him about the story in my world and he actually seemed to believe me."

"Good," Fili said, still tamping tobacco down into his pipe. He suddenly looked up at her, his eyes keen. "Lizzy, I hope you know that he wouldn't have treated you like that unless he thought …" he trailed off awkwardly.

"I know," she said, remembering what they had told her about Dwarven women being protected and respected in their culture.

Silence descended between the three of them again, during which time Thorin arrived at the courtyard and spoke softly to Balin before they slipped quietly away into the main house with Bilbo. She assumed they were going to ask about the map, but felt no desire to join them. Lizzy lost herself staring vacantly into the darkness outside of the light of the fire. Many of the Dwarves were starting to get ready for bed, stripping out of jackets and setting up their bedrolls.

"Are you alright?" Fili asked softly when he finally put his pipe away. "You look … sad."

"I'm fine," she replied automatically, then she sighed and shook her head. "Actually no. I guess I'm just … feeling a little homesick. I miss my family," she said honestly, tucking her chin tighter into her knees so that her body was curled up into a small ball. The sight of her memories displayed out before her in vivid colour earlier had awoken her longing for them.

"I'm sure they miss you too," he said consolingly, but Lizzy shook her head once more.

"No, Gandalf said he would return me to the exact time and spot that I left," she explained sadly. "They will never even have known I was gone."

The thought that she would return to her family a completely different person, one with all of these new stories and experiences that she would never be able to share with them, rather upset her, though she supposed that it was a better alternative to her family thinking she was missing and worrying about her. Suddenly wanting to be alone once more, she climbed to her feet. "You know what? I think I'm just going to go to bed, I'm kind of tired."

"You're not staying here with us?" Kili asked in surprise as she made her way across the courtyard.

"Are you kidding? The Elves have given me a mattress and real _feather _pillows, you couldn't _pay_ me to stay and listen to your snoring," she said incredulously, hiding her disquiet with sarcasm. She blew a kiss at the company in general as she left. "G'night guys."

* * *

Thorin returned to the courtyard after his discussion with Lord Elrond, his mind whirring after everything he had learned. The door into the mountain did indeed exist and could only be opened on a certain day, meaning they now had a strict schedule to stick to on their journey if they were to make it in time. Durin's Day was still several months away, but he wanted to be on the road again as soon as possible, especially after the Elf had deemed their quest 'unwise': he feared that they would try to hinder them somehow.

Reaching the courtyard, he saw most of the company still awake. He filled them in about the map in a quiet whisper, explaining the moon-runes and the importance of Durin's Day. They all agreed that they should leave as soon as they could, eager to be away from this strange and foreign Elvish place. Bilbo's face fell at this news of them moving on so soon, though he wisely kept his protests silent.

Realising who was missing, Thorin glanced around the courtyard. "Where is Miss Darrow?" he asked, since she was no longer curled up on the divan with his nephews. He felt a small stab of worry, remembering how pale and haunted she had appeared earlier.

"She went back to her room, said something about sleeping without the sound of our snoring," Bombur explained from his bedroll.

"Isn't she aware that she snores herself?" Bofur asked with a grin.

"Aye, but not as loudly as we do," his large brother said. "Best not tell the lass, it will probably upset her."

Leaving them to their talking, Thorin slipped quietly away once more and left the courtyard. He sternly told himself that it was to inform Miss Darrow that they were leaving come dawn, but in reality he was concerned about her. When she had fled the grove of trees earlier he had been worried that she might do some mischief to herself in that state and when he had seen her with Fili and Kili earlier it was apparent that the afternoon had not improved her spirits much.

Moreover, after his conversation with Elrond he wished to see if what she knew of the map corresponded with what he had just discovered – a final test to confirm her outlandish story.

Rivendell was largely deserted at this time of night and he only saw a few Elves gliding along in the darkness on silent feet. He was lucky enough to remember the way to the guest wing and not have to ask for directions once more.

He knocked quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. There was no immediate response, so he knocked again, louder this time.

She yawningly opened the door and he immediately averted his eyes.

"Could you not at least make yourself decent, Miss Darrow?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the intricately carved wooden frame above her door. She had answered his knock with her hair down and messy, wearing only one of her strange shirts as a nightdress that didn't even cover her bare thighs.

"I _was_ asleep and not exactly expecting company," she said reproachfully, but nevertheless moved aside to let him in.

Spying a robe on a hook by the door, he took it and held it pointedly in her direction, still not looking at her. He felt her take it from him with a faint sigh.

"Any particular reason for this late night visit?" she asked once she was more decently covered in the robe, her arms wrapped around her torso as if she was holding herself together. Now that he allowed himself to look at her, he saw that she looked paler than usual and that her eyes held a slight tinge of red. Her bed was also in disarray, making him wonder if her sleep had been plagued by nightmares.

"I am curious to see if your information matches that which I have just received from Lord Elrond," he told her, handing her the map.

She took it from him and walked over to the balcony of her room, clearly knowing how to read it since she held it straight up to the moonlight. The moon-runes gleamed faint but clear with the light shining behind them. "I don't read Ancient Dwarvish, you know, and like I said earlier I can't remember the exact wording, but it's something about a thrush knocking and the last light of Durin's Day."

"Indeed," Thorin said, inclining his head. Her knowledge of how to read the runes and summary of what they had said was enough to dispel the few lingering doubts he had about her fantastical story of his quest being legendary in her world.

"Does this mean you believe me?" she asked, seemingly reading his thoughts as she stepped forward to hand him back the map.

"You have given me no reason to doubt your story and it seems that trusting you could potentially be the only way to save my nephews," he said gruffly, and then allowed his voice to become stern. "However, it would be wise to keep this knowledge of yours to yourself, it is not something the rest of the company needs to know."

She rolled her eyes at that. "I _know_, that's why I kept it from you."

Thorin looked at her briefly – this strange and seemingly delicate woman that held so many secrets and was apparently the key to their success. "I hope you know that I did not _want_ to believe you a traitor," he said honestly: not only would the news have devastated his nephews, who had formed quite the friendship with the girl, but she had created a place for herself among the company. "I spoke to you this morning in a way that I had no business too, and for that I apologise."

She smiled at him, accepting his apology. "Are we to be friends then?"

"We are _allies_, Miss Darrow, which I think you will find a good deal more effective," he corrected her. There was a brief silence as the two of them gazed at each other, her arms wrapped protectively around her torso once more. Thorin shook himself and made to leave the room. "We depart at first light, be sure that you are ready."

* * *

**Can you believe that the space between now and the trolls is only ONE DAY? **

**I do normally reply to all reviewers, but to those who reviewed without being signed in / PM not enabled, just wanted to say a big thank you for your support of this story :)**

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	12. Durin's crown

"**I wondered what you'd have on the side with a plate of Deep Fried Anxiety. Pickles? Coleslaw? Potato-strychnine mash?"**

_**Robin McKinley, Sunshine**_

* * *

The White Council had drawn to an unsatisfactory close just as the sun started to rise over the valley of Imladris. The night had been long and wearying for Gandalf, not having slept the night before with the incident with the trolls either. His every move, plan and suspicion had been ruthlessly dissected and rejected by Saruman to the extent that he felt scolded like a child. The only blessings were that the company had departed before Saruman could interfere in their quest (thank the Valar for Thorin's stubborn nature and distrust of Elves) and that the White Wizard seemed unaware of Elizabeth Darrow's presence in Middle Earth.

Gandalf had lingered with the Lady Galadriel after the meeting had finished, hoping the Lady would give him some counsel. And indeed, she divulged that she shared his fears and that he was right to help the Dwarves, allaying his doubts.

"Mithrandir," she said as he turned to leave, regaining his attention. "Why Elizabeth Darrow?"

That the Lady was aware of Elizabeth and no doubt her origins as well came as no shock to him: he would not be surprised if the Lady had sought her out the previous day. "I do not know," he said honestly, since when he had met Elizabeth in a bookshop in her world he had simply been overcome by a feeling that she was the one to assist Thorin on his quest.

"You risk changing the fate of Middle Earth by bringing her here," the Lady pointed out, her tone devoid of any accusation.

"No," Gandalf disagreed with her. "If you remove a single brick then the tower itself remains standing, it is only if you remove the keystone that the tower falls."

"You still speak in riddles, mellon nin," Lady Galadriel said with a smile."You believe the Halfling to be the keystone."

"Yes. Saruman believes that only great power can hold evil in check, but that is not what I find. I have found that it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness … and love," he added thoughtfully. "You asked why Elizabeth Darrow and the honest answer is that she gives me hope where I felt only doubt, and as for Bilbo Baggins," he paused pensively. "Perhaps it is because despite Elizabeth's presence I am still afraid … and he gives me courage."

* * *

Lizzy found herself yawning as they made the ascent up out of the valley, not having slept well the night before despite her soft mattress and beautiful feather pillow. She had found herself tossing and turning, her mind constantly replaying what she had seen in the mirror before falling into a fretful sleep. She had actually been grateful when Thorin had woken her in the middle of the night, interrupting her nightmares.

After he had left she didn't want to go back to sleep and risk more dreams so she had gotten dressed, packed her bag ready for the morning and gone to sit out on the balcony to watch the crescent moon's slow journey across the sky. She must have fallen asleep in her chair since she had woken in the chilly morning with the sun just beginning to rise.

Grabbing her bag, sword and shoes, not bothering to take the time putting them on, she had high-tailed it barefoot to the courtyard without even making her bed. She had made it just in time to see the Dwarves shouldering their packs and Thorin had given her a pointed look of annoyance at how close to their departure time she was cutting her arrival.

"We were just about to send someone to find you, was a feather pillow holding you in thrall?" Bombur had asked with a cheeky grin.

"You could say that," she'd replied, throwing herself to the floor to pull on her socks and boots. It took her scant minutes to tie her laces, strap Naethring's sword belt around her hips and shoulder her own pack. "Ready when you are," she'd said as she pulled her hair back into a messy bun.

They left the courtyard, keeping their voices down as they moved through Rivendell. They weren't technically doing anything wrong in leaving, but they still didn't want the Elves to hinder them. Given the size of the valley the sun had properly risen by the time they made it to one of the rocky paths out over the top.

"Be on your guard, we are about to step over the Edge of the Wild," Thorin said from above them. "Balin, you know these paths, lead on."

Lizzy saw Bilbo pause and look back one last time. She joined him in gazing longingly out over the peaceful house that was fairly glowing in the morning sunshine. Rivendell was a beautiful and tranquil place and she wished she could have spent more time there as opposed to just one day.

"I'm going to miss this place," Bilbo said to her softly. "I just … I felt like I could have _lived_ there."

She smiled knowingly at the Hobbit. "Maybe you will one day."

"Master Baggins, Miss Darrow, I suggest you keep up," a deep, stern voice said from above them and they turned to see Thorin observing their wistfulness with his arms folded disapprovingly across his chest.

Lizzy arched a single brow at Thorin as they passed him, though decided not to comment that she and Bilbo had hardly fallen far behind, not wanting to start an augment and strain the tentative truce they had formed. Their relationship had undergone a shift in the last twenty four hours – the past few weeks in the wilderness they had largely ignored each other, barring a few charged conversations that had bordered on arguments, but after spending the most of the day together yesterday they were suddenly allies with this big secret between them – and Lizzy was no longer sure how to act around him.

It was strange, he had always been one of her favourite characters in the story but since she had been in Middle Earth she had found herself liking him less. Brooding was perhaps all well and good in books, but on Thorin in person it came across as dour and grumpy, lowering the mood of the whole company when he indulged in the habit for days on end. Admittedly she had enjoyed one or two of their debates but hadn't really sought out his company when they were travelling, getting on better with the others. Fili and Kili were closer in age and temperament to her, and she found the lack of pretence among the Brother's Ur refreshing: they were commoners like her and not in any way related to the line of Durin, unlike most of the company.

However the previous night, when he had stood staring at her after she had handed him back the map, she'd remembered her first impressions of Thorin when watching the film – that despite the grey streaks in his hair, he had come across as very attractive. She had suddenly found herself very aware that they were alone in her bedroom and had been relieved when he'd recollected himself and left.

The company made their way through the wilderness on foot and as the day wore on Lizzy began to understand what Thorin had meant when he spoke about stepping over the Edge of the Wild. They were no longer in the low-lands between the Shire and Rivendell, but rather making the ascent into the mountain region, meaning they were walking through rock valley's and pine forests.

As their first day from Rivendell drew to a close Lizzy's legs were aching and she found herself missing Binky, hoping her faithful pony hadn't been caught by wargs or other animals. After several weeks on the back of a pony she had gotten out of the habit of long walks and knew it would be several days before her body reacclimatised to hiking.

She was resting by the fire and rubbing slight cramps out of her legs when the rasping of a weapon being drawn from behind her startled her into turning around. Dwalin was standing with knife that was almost long enough to be considered a sword in his hand. He jerked his head away from the camp. "Come," he said gruffly, expecting her to follow him.

Since none of the company seemed surprised at Dwalin's behaviour Lizzy swallowed down her trepidation and joined the intimidating Dwarf outside of the camp.

"There is little point you owning a sword unless you know how to wield it," Dwalin said, pointing at Naethring with his knife. "Take your stance."

Realising he wanted to teach her how to use a sword, she followed his orders, drawing her sword and taking the same stance that Fili and Kili had shown her when they had previously tried to teach her to use a weapon. Naethring was far easier to hold aloft that Fili's sword, though she still held it a little gingerly. Dwalin corrected her grip and foot positioning and then started to run through several basic drill-type moves. Though he primarily used the massive axes he carried, he was clearly well-versed in all types of weaponry and fighting.

Apparently before she could spar with anyone else she had to learn the moves. He had given each drill-position a number and was shouting them in different orders, then she had to do the corresponding moves with them coming together in a sequence that he would make her repeat.

They were at it for well over an hour before they lost the light and he let her finish, telling her that she would learn five more drill-moves each evening to be added to the sequences she was already learning.

She suppressed a groan at the idea and thanked him politely for the lesson before returning to the fire, where dinner was just being served up.

"You're looking a little worse for wear," Fili observed as she sat down beside him, taking in the faint sheen of sweat on her face and the hair that was escaping from its bun.

"Dwalin is a hard task-master," she said, thinking that their lesson was the most she had ever interacted with the gruff Dwarf since usually disapproval radiated off him in waves whenever he was in her presence.

"Aye, I remember when he first started teaching us," Fili agreed, smiling a little at the memory.

"It's good you're learning to use a sword, you never know when we will be attacked again and you won't always be able to use my bow," Kili put in around a mouthful of food.

Lizzy smiled because she did actually know when they would be attacked again, knowing that they would have to fight their way through Goblin-Town – then the smile froze on her face as she suddenly realised that she would be in that fight as well. This wasn't just a movie or story anymore, if the goblins caught her she would be tortured and killed in the most horrific way possible. She had no fighting skills to speak of and her survival could very well depend on how much she practised over the next few weeks.

Swallowing hard against the horrible lump of anxiety in her throat, she found that she was no longer hungry.

* * *

They spent nearly three weeks in the Wild as they headed towards the Misty Mountains. They were travelling north-west from Rivendell, approaching the mountains at a diagonal with the terrain gradually getting more rocky and precarious. They were no longer following the Great East Road, but rather little paths that liked to vanish for days on end and they would have become hopelessly lost were it not for Balin leading the way.

Apparently there were many routes up to the Misty Mountains and many passes over them, but most of them were cheats and deceptions that led to dead ends or bad places. The Dwarves told her that the route they were taking, the High Pass, was largely deemed to be safe: Lizzy had hummed non-committally, knowing they would not find it to be so and being quite frankly terrified at the idea.

She had toyed with the idea of telling Thorin to take a different route over the mountains, but had quickly dismissed the thought. She had told him in Rivendell that the quest was hugely important with it's vast knock-on effect on the fate of Middle Earth: Bilbo _had_ to find the Ring as they passed the Misty Mountains, otherwise god knows what would happen.

For Lizzy, those weeks were exhausting and miserable, she had completely lost her appetite and the nightmares that had started in Rivendell were now a nightly occurrence – she cursed the Lady Galadriel under her breath, wishing she had never looked into that damn mirror.

She didn't talk quite as much as she used too, being far too preoccupied with her thoughts, and would spend the evenings avidly practising both her sparring and her archery until she lost the light, whereupon she would return to the camp, choke down what little food she could manage and then curl up to go to sleep. If she didn't exhaust herself she would lie awake for hours on end, grimly anticipating what her dreams would bring.

The weather grew gradually colder as they ascended into the mountains, despite the July sunshine. Dwarves were hardy folk, resilient to both cold and heat, and so they didn't particularly mind the temperature change, but Bilbo and Lizzy would huddle together as close to the fire as they could once she had finished practising, shivering away.

Various members of the company seemed to be conspiring to keep her on her feet: Bombur was constantly trying to convince her to eat more; Bifur would lend her his jacket and Bofur his hat when the nights got too cold; Dori made her nettle-tea from some leaves he had found that both warmed her hands while she drunk it and she found that she could stomach far better than actual food; and Fili and Kili constantly walked beside her as they travelled, keeping up a steady stream of conversation, ignoring her reticence and coaxing the occasional smile from her despite her depression and anxiety.

* * *

Just after the end of their first week travelling again Thorin decided that he'd had enough. Taking one of their crude plates and loading it up with a bit of dried bread and cooked pheasant that Kili had shot down earlier, he approached their advisor. She was standing a little away from the camp practising her archery. Her intense practising had improved her technique vastly considering how hopeless she had been before: she almost always hit whatever she was using as a target now, though not with much precision.

"Here," he said, holding the plate out to her – the first time they had spoken since Rivendell.

"I'm not hungry," Miss Darrow replied, not even looking at him and making no move to take the plate as she nocked another arrow.

"You are not eating properly, Miss Darrow," he said grimly, having noticed her appetite waning since they had left Rivendell. "Do not think we have not noticed."

"Well, I'm not really in the mood for pheasant," she snapped back insolently as she released the arrow, making his ire rise.

"This is all you are getting so you are going to stop acting like a child and eat it," he said in a tone that brooked no refusal.

Her eyes flashed as she whipped around to face him. "I'm not acting like a ..." she suddenly trailed off, all of the fight going out of her and she lowered Kili's bow between them. "No, you're right. That was childish."

She went and sat down a few feet away on a low rock and rubbed a hand over her face. She looked wan and haggard, any natural beauty her face possessed being over shadowed by her pinched skin and the dark smudges under her eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a brat," she said, looking up at him with very wide eyes. "I'm just … _tired_."

He wordlessly sat down next to her and handed her the plate which she took with a sigh. "I've probably offended poor Bombur over the past few days, he is going to think I don't like his cooking," she added miserably as she picked at her food.

He supervised her eating every mouthful, watching her tear off tiny bites that she seemed to have to force herself to chew carefully and swallow. Despite having no utensils to eat, her table manners were very good, unlike most of the company.

He waited until her plate was empty before speaking again, which took a surprisingly long time. "While I admire your dedication, why are you so determined to practice at every opportunity?"

"It's a good distraction," she said, her eyes down on her plate. "I've also been thinking about what you said about me being a liability in Bree – I'm perfectly aware that we are not going to finish this quest without fighting orcs and goblins at least once. These skills could, and hopefully _will_ save my life."

He inclined his head, thinking that it was good that she had some form of defence even though the company would do their best to keep her from harm in any fight. While she may need protecting he no longer saw her as a liability: she was an asset to their company with her knowledge.

"Nevertheless, you're exhausting yourself," he pointed out disapprovingly. "You will start alternating the nights you practice archery and sparring, that's an order."

"It's not the practising that tires me out." She gave him a very sad smile. "I'm not really sleeping well."

"You sleep like the dead most nights," he said, and indeed since leaving Rivendell she had taken to retiring before the rest of the company after finishing her rigorous training.

"That doesn't mean I sleep well."

"And that is why you need distracting," he deduced, realising that her sleep was plagued with nightmares. He hadn't noticed any disquiet in her slumber before Rivendell and he wondered if whatever the Elf-witch had shown her in the mirror was disturbing her sleep. "What haunts you?"

"Everything," she said softly, the word nearly inaudible. She suddenly stood, handing him back the empty plate and picking up Kili's bow again. "Thank you for bringing me food," she said, her gratitude genuine. She then resumed her previous position before her target and nocked another arrow, their conversation clearly at an end.

* * *

With Thorin's orders in mind, she had started alternating her nightly practices and forcing herself to eat dinner every night, knowing that her current habits were not healthy. The result of this was that she was no longer so tired when she went to bed, meaning that sleep took longer to come and the nightmares grew worse. She would wake up violently in the middle of the night and find herself unable to get back to sleep: whoever took the dawn watch had come to expect her rising before the sun and coming to sit quietly with them until dawn, whereupon she would practice a few drills with her sword while the camp stirred.

Her sword work was coming along nicely, though she still had yet to try it out against anyone – she had the feeling that if she sparred against anyone in the company (Bilbo excepted) that they would disarm her in two moves. A lot of the drills were rapidly becoming instinctual and she rather liked practising them in the morning, keeping her breathing regular as she slowly swung Naethring from position to position: it was almost like the yoga she had done one summer, only more deadly.

One night towards the end of their approach to the mountains she had had a particularly bad nightmare, bought on by the sick anticipation that their venture into Goblin-Town was now only scant days away. She had barely had two hours sleep before waking and joining Dori, who had only just started the second watch. The fussy Dwarf insisted on making her nettle-tea which she drank without complaint, grateful for the warmth as shivers racked her body.

Yet despite how little sleep she had gotten she was still determined to practice the following evening. Dwalin was teaching her a whole load of new drill-moves and she refused to finish until she had mastered all of them.

The result was that when she returned to the camp she was just as exhausted as she had been in the first week of travelling from Rivendell. She sat down next to Bifur, groaning and stretching her tired muscles.

_How are you_? Bifur signed, noticing her fatigue.

"I'm beat," she said wearily, and then noticed the confused look on the wild Dwarf's face. "It means tired. I think I'm just going to go to bed now."

Bifur grunted and signed _no_, which involved flicking the middle and index fingers down to meet the thumb.

"Why not?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"_Ablug_."

"_Ablug_?" she repeated, not understanding the Khuzdul word. "What does that mean?"

Bifur pointed at Bombur and mimed eating.

"Food?" she guessed and he nodded. "Oh, okay," she said, remembering her promise to herself that she would at least try to eat dinner in the evenings - but she was fast asleep with her head on Bifur's shoulder long before the food was ready.

* * *

Thorin was taking the second watch that night, seated on a ridge a little above the camp that afforded him a view both down into the valley and up the path ahead, illuminated by the nearly full moon. There were still a few hours until dawn and the night was quiet save for the snoring of the company.

Sensing movement in the camp below him, he glanced down to see Miss Darrow stirring and sitting up in her sleeping bag. She had fallen asleep by the fire the previous night and had been carried to her makeshift bed by Bifur and Bofur. It was the first time he had seen her wake in the night though it was common knowledge around the company now that she didn't sleep well.

He watched silently as she stood up and looked across the camp to where Fili and Kili slept as if to make sure they were alright – this movement caused him to guess the cause of her night-time disquiet, it appeared that the Elven-lady had shown her something of their fate that was causing her nightmares.

She glanced around the rest of the camp, eventually locating him on the ridge. "Good morning," she said softly so as not to wake anyone.

"It is still night-time," he pointed out. "You should go back to sleep, Miss Darrow."

"I won't sleep anymore," she said, shaking her head. Even from the distance that separated them he heard a sudden faint growl and she pressed her hands to her stomach in a startled manner. "I'm starving," she said sheepishly by way of explanation.

"I am not surprised, you were asleep before dinner again last night," he said, disapproval colouring his tone.

"Not on purpose this time," she whispered back with a smile, a hint of the previous spark that Rivendell had taken away from her returning. "Is there anything left?"

He shook his head, their rations were running low and they had foolishly assumed she would be so tired that she would sleep until breakfast, whereupon she could eat then and so they hadn't saved her anything. "You will have to wait until breakfast, it is too early to light the fire."

She looked a little put out and then her expression abruptly brightened. She went rummaging around in her pack and them climbed up the ridge to join him, something small and rectangular in her hand. "Only just remembered I had these," she said as she sat down next to him, her legs dangling.

There was a faint rustling as she opened the packet: the bar inside seemed to be food of some sort since she broke off a generous portion and popped it into her mouth. "Want some?" she said, offering him the packet. "It's food from my world."

Taking it from her hand, he examined the packet curiously. It was something called a _nutri-grain cereal bar _and it smelt like apple and cinnamon. He cautiously broke off a small bit and tried it, pleasantly surprised at the sweet taste of the fruit purée and cake-like texture.

"Thank you," he said, handing the rest of it back to her – she needed the food more than he did.

They sat in silence for a while as she finished eating, simply looking out over the valley. The night was still very dark, though there was the faintest tinge of light just beginning to touch the sky in the east over the mountains.

All of a sudden, she gasped quietly beside him.

"What?" he asked with quiet urgency, thinking she had seen a threat, but her eyes were lifted to the sky.

"I can't believe I've only just noticed ..." she whispered in awe, still looking up.

Thorin followed her gaze but couldn't see what had her so enraptured – there was nothing but the moon and stars above them. "What is it, Miss Darrow?"

She turned to him with a bemused smile. "The stars here are the same as they are in my world," she said, raising her gaze once more. "It's a different world but it's still the same planet … somehow."

Thorin silently considered this: he had never really put much thought to exactly how this travelling between worlds business worked, but now that he thought about it there were several strange similarities. The fact that his quest was known and recorded implied some kind of link between worlds, as did their shared language. Now it also appeared that they shared the same constellations, despite the fact that their stars were kindled by the Valar; if he remembered rightly from her descriptions of her world from when their quest first started, no one in her world subscribed to this cosmology.

"Do you have names for the stars in your world?" he asked, intrigued by how far these similarities went.

"Umm, we call that the Plough, or the Big Dipper in America," she said, pointing at the Sickle of the Valar, one of the clearest constellations in the sky. Her finger then moved across to another bright, familiar cluster of stars. "And that's the Seven Sisters."

"We call that Durin's Crown, it is the emblem of our house," Thorin said softly, his eyes on the stars – long had that particular constellation held his attention on nights when he couldn't sleep, brooding over his quest and kingdom. He shook himself from his reverie. "Do you know any others?"

"No, never really learnt any astronomy," she replied. "I could probably name a handful of constellations but I couldn't identify them."

He named several more stars, pointing them out to her and telling their stories. She drank in his words and silence eventually fell between them as dawn approached. The sky was very red as the sun rose behind the Misty Mountains, indicating bad weather to come.

"Tomorrow we begin our ascent into the High Pass," he said, speaking for the first time in about an hour.

"Great, more climbing," Miss Darrow said, her voice tight.

Thorin turned to look at her, wondering the cause of her tension. "Do you know if these clouds will hold? A storm on the pass would be inconvenient."

She rolled her eyes slightly. "The book doesn't exactly detail things like weather, I'm not omnipotent," she said, mentioning the book for the first time since Rivendell.

He turned back to gaze out over the ridge. "Anything we should know to expect on the pass?" he asked. "There is always a danger of goblins in the mountain regions."

Had he been looking at her he would have seen her tense sharply. There was the slightest pause. "Nothing that springs instantly to mind," she said in a deceptively neutral tone – and having no reason to doubt her, Thorin believed her.

* * *

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews, keep 'em coming guys!**

**Wow, I'm really starting to struggle to think of questions for you guys … um … what are you most looking forward to about the Desolation of Smaug?**

**Personally, I can't wait to see soaking wet Dwarves and Benedict Cumberbatch! Between Thorin, Thranduil and Smaug the next film is going to be an aural sensation!**

**You can follow updates, sneak peeks and ask any questions about the story or characters on my tumblr _~Kindle-the-Stars_**


	13. Blood from a stone

"**I was lost till you were found, but I never knew how far down I was falling before I reached the bottom. I was cold and you were fire, but I never knew how the pyre could be burning on the edge of the ice-field."**

_**Meatloaf, For Crying Out Loud**_

* * *

It turned out that the ascent into the mountain pass took nearly three days, meaning that Lizzy was left to stew even longer in her anticipation. The clouds she and Thorin had spotted from the ridge as the sun rose had quickly covered the entire sky, blocking out the sunshine and pelting the company with rain for days on end, making their ascent slippery and precarious. Gloin was carrying some dry firewood in his pack, but the rain had not abated enough for them to use it and so their meals had consisted of nothing more than soggy bread and hard cheese.

Unsurprisingly, everyone was miserable with tempers running high – none more so than Thorin, who had taken to snapping at people for every little minor infraction.

Adding to their misery was the complete lack of any kind of shelter. The previous night their 'camp' had consisted of sitting huddled against the rock wall of the narrow path, their clothes utterly drenched and wind howling around them. Even her waterproof jacket was little help against the elements, with rain having seeped gradually down the collar and soaking her clothes.

Lizzy had been squashed between Fili and Thorin that night, her teeth chattering non-stop before she eventually drifted into a fitful doze against the Dwarf King's shoulder – she hadn't even realised she had fallen asleep until Thorin had shaken her awake and brusquely told them it was time to move on, the entire night passing her by in a haze of constant rain.

On the morning of the third day Balin suggested that they turn back and wait for the weather to clear before attempting the pass, but Thorin was determined to press on. Lizzy was both relieved and disappointed at this announcement, knowing that they had to take this pass and be captured but dreading it and hating the weather at the same time.

That afternoon the thunder started, great booms right above their heads that echoed horribly around the valley. Lightening split the sky with vivid flashes, the only light in the murky twilight of the clouds.

They were stumbling along the edge of the mountain, half blinded by the rain, when another boom deafened them and Lizzy staggered forward into Thorin, slipping on the narrow path. He threw his arm backwards, keeping her away from the edge an almost hitting her with the axe he was using as a crutch at the same time. "Alright, hold on," he shouted back to them as he steadied her, his voice barely audible over the echoes of thunder despite their proximity.

Behind them, Bilbo had been equally shaken by the thunder and had nearly fallen off the path itself as it crumbled beneath him, narrowly avoiding a long and deadly fall down into the valley below them.

"This won't do at all!" she heard Thorin saying to himself, audible in the pauses between the rolls of thunder. "We will get blown off or drowned, or struck by lightning before we can clear the pass."

"Then what do you propose we do?" she called back to him with a bite of sarcasm despite the seriousness of her question, half hoping he would tell them to turn around. However Thorin didn't reply and it was very possible he hadn't even heard her response.

Thunder roared around them again and Lizzy couldn't stop a squeak of fear – it was as if two huge storms were fighting for dominance in the valley.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin bellowed to the company after a few more minutes of attempting to walk and, recognising this moment from the movie, Lizzy instantly squinted through the rain, trying to make out the Stone Giant's that would doubtless be showing themselves.

She was so busy blinking rainwater from her eyes that she almost missed the huge boulder heading their way. "_Look out,_" Dwalin yelled from near the back of the company, and they all looked up to see the massive rock crashing into the mountain above them. They instantly dove against the wall, their arms thrown up protectively to shield their faces as rocks rained down around them.

"This is no thunder-storm, it's a thunder-battle – look!" she heard Balin call and peeked out from beneath the arm that was sheltering her face from the falling rocks.

There they were, the Stone Giants – at least twice as big as she was expecting and infinitely more terrifying. They were huge, over a thousand feet tall, faceless and monstrous. They looked like they were made from the mountain itself, all jagged edges and crumbling rock.

And – bloody hell – if she remembered rightly then the entire company was _on_ one.

She scrambled forward and yanked Thorin around to face her, grabbing him by the front of his cloak – she could have sworn she saw shock flicker through his gaze. "We need to move, _now_!" she shrieked into his face, overcome by panic.

"What?" he shouted back through the rain, his hands coming up to grip her arms tightly.

"Well bless me, the legends are true!" she heard Bofur's awed voice. "Giants! Stone Giants!"

"Thorin, we have to _move_!" she yelled, but his attention was on Bofur behind them and the massive boulder a Giant had just thrown in their direction.

"Take cover, you fool!" he bellowed to the Dwarf, pushing her backwards against the rock wall and covering her with his body as rocks pelted down from above. Her breath was coming in frantic gasps and she could feel the scratch of his beard against her forehead, but her mind had gone strangely blank – she found herself wondering how such creatures could possibly exist out of stone: did they have stone blood in their veins, stone hearts that beat like theirs?

Stupid thoughts to have in the midst of such an experience, she chided herself as the rock shook beneath their feet. Stupid of her not to tell Thorin what to expect on the pass, stupid of her to believe she could handle this and stupid to think there was any way she could survive this quest.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid … _her mind whispered as the mountain cracked and the giant stood up.

* * *

_Nothing that springs instantly to mind _was what their advisor had told him, Thorin thought bitterly to himself as the mountain shook and crumbled. Were Stone Giants not interesting enough to be recounted in whatever legend she knew of their quest? The fact that she had implied that nothing would happen on the pass had been part of the reason he had forced the company to press on despite the increasingly dangerous conditions, but with Giants of living stone ripping hunks of rock from the mountain with the ease of tearing bread and throwing them sky high he was turning this entire company around and choosing a different route over the mountains.

He was about to give the order to turn around when an almighty crack rent the air and the mountain shuddered, shifting sharply with them all clinging to the rock.

_Mahal's balls, we're on one_, he realised with horror as the Giant stood up.

Looking back to the rest of the company, his heart clenched in sudden fear when he saw that the group was being separated in two, with Fili and Kili still half reaching for each other over the divide as the gap between them widened, a yawning cavern of empty space and a deadly fall if they couldn't hold on.

A second Giant approached and slammed it's head into their Giant, sending it careening backwards as they clung on for dear life. Thorin still had Miss Darrow pinned protectively with his body and he could vaguely make out the string of surprisingly foul curse-words flying from her lips.

The Giant slammed into the rock wall of the mountain, violently jarring them and, seeing their chance, Thorin yelled "Go, go, go!" making the leap off the Giant and onto a ledge, practically dragging Miss Darrow behind him – her feet slipped on the wet rock and she lost her footing as they jumped, hitting her head sharply as they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Their half of the company made it onto the rock ledge, some of them having to jump through the air to safety as the Giant shifted again and falling as they landed. Thorin looked down at Miss Darrow and was alarmed to see a trickle of blood running from underneath her hairline, but she was conscious and blinking water from her eyes, so he pulled her to her feet and pushed her unceremoniously towards Bifur.

"Look after her," he ordered and was then forced to duck as a Giant's fist made contact with the rock scant meters above their heads, showering them with a fresh wave of jagged shards.

Looking for the rest of the company, he saw them clinging to the leg of the Giant they had just leapt off. The Giant was staggering backwards, having been beaten by one of the others in their fight, it's knees going forwards as it's body tumbled – the company was heading straight for the mountainside at a terrible speed and there was nothing Thorin could do but watch in horror.

With a horrible crash the Giant hit the mountain, crushing the company into the rock.

"No!" Thorin yelled as the Giant fell away, revealing the empty ledge where the company had stood mere seconds ago. Fili had been among them – Mahal above, was _this_ his nephews death that Miss Darrow had warned him of?

"No, _Fili_!" he shouted in panic, making his way as quickly as he could along the narrow ledge that could barely be called a path – turning the corner, his heart leapt when he saw them slowly sitting up, seemingly uninjured.

"We're alright, we're alive!" he heard someone call, but he was too busy clambering over various members of the company to get at his nephew. Finally locating Fili, he pulled him to his feet and embraced him fiercely, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I'm fine," he heard Fili say, holding him just as tightly and sounding undeniably shaken. "I'm alright, uncle,"

Unlike Kili, Fili hadn't called him _uncle_ since he was a Dwarfling, having addressed him as Thorin since getting his first braids at the age of twenty. With memories of the lads childhood stirring, Thorin took his face in both hands and pressed their foreheads together, his heart swelling with relief that his eldest nephew was unharmed.

"Are you injured?" he demanded, releasing his nephews face.

Fili shook his head – and then suddenly the filial moment between them was ruined as they heard a commotion from behind them. "Where's Bilbo? Where's the Hobbit?" Bofur was saying as they frantically looked around. And there he was, dangling by just his hands over the edge of the cliff.

"Get him!" Thorin ordered, and in their haste to do so they knocked him down further, just out of reach of their grasping hands.

Seeing no other choice, Thorin jumped down to a small ledge just below the edge of the cliff and hoisted their burglar upwards until he could be hauled up over the top – but just as he did so one of the Hobbit's flailing feet caught him, sending him skidding off the ridge. He was saved by Dwalin grabbing him with lightening quick reflexes, his legs dangling into the empty air for one horrible moment before he too was pulled up to safety.

"Âkmînruk zu,bâhel," he said, slipping into formal Khuzdul as he thanked his friend.

Dwalin clapped his shoulder, silent recognition of his thanks. "I thought we had lost our burglar," he said, nodding to where Mr Baggins was huddled, apparently in shock.

"He's been lost ever since he left home," Thorin replied loud enough for the Hobbit to hear, his temper running high after his near fall due to the Hobbit's clumsiness – perhaps it was irrational of him, any one of the company could have been the one to fall down the cliff, but in his mind it was just another tally in the long list of reasons why Mr Baggins should not be here. "He should never have come. He has no place amongst us."

"Stop it," he heard Miss Darrow say weakly and he turned to see her leaning against Bifur, looking dazed. The blood from her temple had streaked down her face, spreading and mingling with the rainwater, making her injury appear far more serious than it actually was. "It's not his fault."

He stepped up to her, taking care to keep his voice low so that Bifur would not hear. "You knew that would happen." It was not a question and the stark, guilty look was enough of a confirmation. For some reason that he was not able to grasp, she had failed to speak about what they would expect on the pass despite him asking her directly. "Why did you not tell me?"

She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by Kili, who had been exploring a little way down the path.. "Uncle, there is a cave. It looks big enough for all of us."

Deciding to leave questioning their advisor until later, Thorin followed Kili to the mouth of the cave. He was eager to find shelter, knowing that the company still wasn't safe from the Giants who had moved their fight down the valley. Sure enough, the cave was dry and spacious at first glance – however he knew that first glances could be deceiving.

"Dwalin," he said, jerking his head towards the entrance. The two of them entered the cave and gave it a cursory look-over.

"It looks safe enough," his friend said, a note of relief in his voice.

"Search to the back, caves in the mountain are seldom unoccupied," he ordered, knowing that both animals and goblins would have been drawn to the shelter like they were.

Dwalin located and quickly lit their lantern, venturing to the back of the cave and taking care to shine the light in every corner. "There's nothing here," he said after a few long minutes and Thorin gave a sigh of relief, beckoning the rest of the company into the safety of their shelter.

Within moments the entire company was inside and making themselves comfortable. Thorin noticed Oin tending to Miss Darrow's head injury, which was little more than a scratch after the blood had been cleaned off.

"Right, let's get a fire started," Gloin said, fishing the dry faggots of wood from his pack – there were smiles all around the company, with everyone apparently looking forward to hot food and the chance to dry some of their clothes, but Thorin was forced to put a stop to it.

"No, no fires. Not in this place," he said as he stalked the length of the cave: he knew from experience that a fire could attract all kinds of trouble in the mountains. "Get some sleep, we leave at first light."

"We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us, that was the plan," Balin said, sounding disapproving. And indeed, were it not for the Stone Giants and the sense of foreboding creeping up his neck this cave would have been the perfect place to wait for the Wizard, being big enough for the whole company.

"Plans change," Thorin replied, knowing he would feel more comfortable once he got the entire company out of the mountains. The Wizard would simply have to catch them up when they reached the eastern edge. Besides, he was the one who had wanted to linger with the Elves in the first place.

* * *

Lizzy was sitting with her arms curled around her legs once more while Oin tended to the stinging cut on her head. It was only small and had appeared worse than it was due to the blood mixing with the rainwater as it ran down her face and neck. Fili, who hadn't seen her since before the company had been split in two, had looked positively alarmed at the sight of her bloodied face but she could barely feel any pain at all. Oin finished cleaning the cut for her and left her holding a makeshift bandage to her head since it was still bleeding sluggishly.

She looked around the cave, resisting the urge to get up and shout for the entire company to leave. Thorin's voice had been low with anger when he had asked why she had not told him about the Giants, and she knew his fury would be even worse once (_if_, her treacherous mind whispered) they got to the other side of the mountain and he realised she had known about the Goblins all along.

It spoke volumes about Thorin's charming personality and fearsome temper that she was half considering potentially altering the entire fate of Middle Earth just so that she wouldn't have to face his ire.

She became aware that Bilbo had come so sit by her, no doubt wanting to avoid the rest of the Dwarves after what Thorin had said to him. The Hobbit was shivering in his wet clothes, looking utterly depressed.

"He doesn't mean it," Lizzy said softly after a few minutes of sitting in silence watching the Dwarves mingle around the cave, spreading out damp bedrolls and grumbling.

"I think he does mean it," Bilbo replied miserably. "And I think he is right."

However she was saved from replying by Thorin's approach. He prowled over from the other side of the cave and stood over the two of them with a stern expression. Both Lizzy and Bilbo looked warily up at him, wondering which one of them he wanted to speak to.

He turned to Bilbo. "Leave us," he ordered bluntly and Bilbo all but jumped to his feet and scurried away to the other side of the cave, leaving Lizzy alone with Thorin once more.

* * *

Thorin slowly sat down beside her and silence reigned between them. He wondered where to begin, not quite having the heart to tell her off for not informing him about what to expect on the mountain pass while she sat there looking so miserable and dejected, curled up in on herself and shivering in her damp clothes. Her cut had been tended to and she was holding a scrap of cloth to the wound to stem the bleeding.

"You should have told me about the Giants," he said eventually, his voice gravelly and containing just a hint of a rebuke.

Miss Darrow took a deep, steadying breath before replying. "I knew we would be fine and you would have chosen a different route if I'd told you."

"Aye, and with good reason apparently," he said, unclear as to why the particular route they took was apparently so important, or at least important enough to potentially risk the well-being of the whole company.

"We have to go this way," she insisted quietly, shaking her head at him.

"Why?"

She didn't answer.

Thorin sighed: they were all alive, with her injury being the worst, and so he gave up on attempting to get answers from her – it would probably be easier to draw blood from a stone than get her to speak when she didn't wish to. There was another long silence, during which time most of the Dwarves had bedded down for the night. "Do you know when Gandalf will rejoin us?" he asked softly.

"Tonight," she, her voice quavering and breaking. "Before we leave the mountains."

The scared tone of her voice made him scrutinise her, there was clearly something wrong besides damp clothing and having had a fright. "What is it?"

She blinked at him and then shook her head violently, a few wisps of hair sticking to her damp cheeks from where they had escaped the customary tail she wore it in. "Nothing."

"You're frightened," he realised. This was different to the tension he had observed in her the past few weeks: she was displaying signs of genuine terror. Her face was shock-white beneath the lingering streaks of blood and her lips were pale and chapped where she had bitten them. Despite his annoyance at her for withholding her knowledge he felt a surge of protectiveness, much like he had felt the previous night when she had shivered in her sleep beside him.

"You should apologise to Bilbo," she said abruptly, not looking at him.

It was his turn to shake his head, recognising her words as an attempt to divert the subject of their conversation away from her. He couldn't figure out what had spooked her so, the Giants had long since moved their fight down the valley and the cave provided them with adequate shelter. "What are you frightened of?"

She didn't reply, biting her full bottom lip once more. She looked so scared and vulnerable that it was instinctual to comfort her – his hand reached for her face before he was even aware he had made the movement, his fingertips just grazing her cheek.

She jerked away from his touch, clearly surprised, and he clenched the offending hand into a fist, recognising the ridiculousness of his actions.

"Get some sleep, Miss Darrow," he said brusquely. "Dwalin says the cave is unoccupied, we should be safe here."

"I won't be able to sleep," she muttered, her gaze fixed down on her propped up knees.

"What's wrong?"

"_Nothing_," she replied a little louder, shaking her head too vigorously once more.

"Miss Darrow," he said sternly, tiring of her secrets.

"I said it's nothing, Thorin," she snapped and then turned to lie down with her back to him in a clear dismissal, still wearing her pack. Well, if she wanted to suffer in silence then he would allow her the pleasure, he thought as he returned to the other side of the cave and laid down himself. However he knew that sleep would be long in coming.

* * *

As she expected, Lizzy couldn't sleep. She was lying in a tight ball of misery, guilt, and intense, sickening fear. The misery and fear were easily explained, the anticipation of what the next few hours would bring sending her stomach into a hot, swirling mess of tension, but the guilt came from Thorin's calm rebuke for not having warned him about the Giants. She had fully expected his anger, but instead he had thrown a curve-ball and had actually seemed concerned about her.

And he had touched her face – sort of, for some reason she couldn't quite explain.

She had automatically flinched backwards, his fingers feeling very hot against her chilled skin, and he had acted as if the brief touch had poisoned him, retreating to the other side of the cave.

Still, after his concern she only felt worse about not warning him about the goblins. But it was more than that too: since Rivendell, despite not talking to each other very often, they had formed something of a tentative friendship, or at least a tolerance of each other, and she didn't want to jeopardise that.

From the other side of the cave she heard Bilbo slowly getting to his feet to strap on his sword and she suppressed a whimper, knowing it would be soon.

Unable to take the emotions roiling turbulently through her, she sat up and crawled with difficulty to where Thorin was lying, still wearing her pack and sword. He was clearly awake and listening to Bilbo's conversation with Bofur.

"Thorin!" she hissed, nudging his shoulder and making him turn over to face her, a surprised look on his face. "I need to tell you something."

"You're pale as death," he said, sitting up and gripping her shoulders, bringing their faces close together. "Mahal above, woman, _cease_ avoiding my questions and tell me _what's wrong_."

"When you asked me what to expect on the mountain pass I may not have been entirely truthful," she babbled, not knowing how to best approach what she was about to tell him.

"Aye, I noticed that when the Giant's were fighting," he replied in a stern ,yet dry tone.

Lizzy shook her head. "No, there's more -"

She was cut off as his hands tightened painfully on her shoulders, his attention caught by something behind her. "What is that?" he breathed, his eyes on the ground.

Following his gaze, Lizzy saw with terror a crack opening in the ground beneath them, sand running in to fill the hole. "Oh god, I'm sorry ..."

"Wake up! Wake up!" Thorin barked to the rest of the company, who instantly stirred.

"Thorin, I'm _so_ sorry -" was all she managed to choke out before the floor opened beneath them.

* * *

**Dun dun DUN!**

**Yup, another cliffy – I'm evil like that.**

**Updates are going to be a bit sporadic the next few chapters, but I will be trying to get at least one out a week. **

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask any questions about me, the story, or the characters on my tumblr ~_kindle-the-stars_**

**Can't really think of a question for this chapter, so I'll ask one to do with the story – what do you guys actually expect / want to see from Lizzy and Thorin? I want to know if your theories /expectations match with what I have planned. So, leave a review and let me know what you think of the chapter!**

**Thanks for reading :) **


	14. Goblin-town

_Violence and swearing in this chapter. Also possible trigger warning – contains references to torture and threatening behaviour._

* * *

**'Beauty in distress is much the most affecting beauty.'**

**Edmund Burke, On the Sublime and Beautiful**

* * *

The floor opened beneath them and the entire company tumbled down a long cavern, hitting walls and each other as they went. It only lasted a handful of horrible seconds, but by the time they collapsed in a heap at the bottom, all on top of each other. Lizzy was bruised and jarred, her heart pounding in sickening fear, only the pack on her back saving her from worse injuries when she had hit the wall.

They were instantly set upon by Goblins, having no time to recover. It was the first time Lizzy had seen Goblins in real life and they were significantly smaller than the Orcs that had pursued the company to Rivendell. Their skin was a murky brown, thick and leathery and covered in warts. They had long, clever fingers that were tipped with sharp claws and huge, bulging eyes, all the better to see in the darkness they frequented.

There were at least six Goblins to each member of the company and they had no chance to draw their weapons before their packs were torn from them and their hands brutally tied in front of them with thick, rough ropes.

One of them pulled the green elastic tie from her hair, yanking out a clump at the same time and making her cry out in shock and pain.

"'ere, this one's a _girl_," one of them cackled as her hair spilt over her face.

The Goblins surrounding her started pinching and clawing at her, their horrible fingers biting at her hips and chest.

"Girly," one of the Goblins gurgled at her, his mouth wide in a sharp-toothed leer. "Sweet and soft.."

She felt a sharp, painful pinch high on her inner thigh and again on her breast, then another Goblin bought it's face close to hers. "Ours to play with, ours to eat, ours to -"

"Get _off_ me," she snarled instinctively, whacking one of them with her bound hands.

The Goblin growled at her and responded with a vicious back-hand to her face, sending her head snapping back and almost knocking her off her feet. The blow landed right across her mouth, splitting her lip and stinging viciously. She tasted the tang of blood and instantly started questioning the wisdom of provoking Goblins. Seeing the abuse, several of the Dwarves crowded round her as they were ushered along gangways – between Bombur's bulk behind her and Bifur and Bofur flanking her at the front she was protected from the Goblin's pinching fingers and molestation.

They were driven at a fast pace, the Goblins cracking whips over their heads and singing in stony, croaky voices that echoed horribly around the narrow, labyrinthine caves.

_"Clap! Snap! The black crack!_

_ Grip, grab! Pinch, nab!_

_ And down down to Goblin-town_

_ You go, my lad!_

_ ._

_ Batter and beat! Yammer and bleat!_

_ While goblins quaff, and goblins laugh,_

_ Round and round far underground_

_ Below, my girl!"_

They were forced to run to avoid the whips and Lizzy was gasping for breath by the time they burst out into a vast cavern at the heart of Goblin-town. The cavern was criss-crossed with haphazard bridges of rotting wooden beams, leading the way towards a great spire of rock. There were Goblins lining the walkways and bridges above and around them, all of them jeering and cat-calling down at the company as they were pushed up to the pinnacle of rock and the makeshift throne of wood and bone.

Lizzy noticed Thorin looking around at Goblin-town with a look of sheer revulsion, his lip curled in disgust – then, as if sensing her gaze, he turned to face her. He lowered his brow in a fierce glare, his expression dark and furious: he had clearly realised that she had known all of this would happen and had they not been in serious trouble he would have done far more than simply glare at her.

They were ushered before the throne, occupied by the Great Goblin. Significantly bigger than the rest of the Goblins, he was vile and disgusting, the goiter on his neck swaying grotesquely as hacking coughs racked his body. His skin was covered in warts and boils, several of which had recently ruptured and were leaking foul fluid, apparently the cause of his particularly bad stench.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" he demanded, stepping down from his throne and onto a small pile of Goblins who were seemingly there as a convenient footrest. "Thieves? Spies? _Assassins_?"

Lizzy stared up at him – despite how repulsive he was, the Great Goblin came across as somewhat ridiculous. She wondered if he was made the Great Goblin simply because he was bigger and smellier than the rest.

"Dwarves, you're malevolence. And _this_," one of the Goblins said, yanking hard on the chain attached to her bound hands so that she fell forward to her knees. "A _girl_."

"_Dwarves_?" the Great Goblin repeated as if this was the strangest news he had ever heard.

"Found 'em on the front porch," the little Goblin in front of her explained with pride.

"Well don't just stand there, search them! Every crack, every crevice!" the Great Goblin shouted with glee and they were accosted once more by Goblins, tearing at their clothes and pinching their skin. Lizzy was yanked back up to her feet as she was searched, her knees now stinging along with her lip that was trickling blood down her chin, A small pile of goods formed next to their weapons as the Goblins tossed their hoard to the floor – in the pile Lizzy saw Oin's earpiece, Bofur's hat and (her heart clenched in sudden fear) Thorin's key.

She could have _sworn_ that didn't happen in either the movie or the book – glancing at Thorin once more, she saw that he was silently fuming that the key had been taken from him, deep creases in his forehead where his brow was lowered. His eyes were fixed upon it as if he could return it to his person by sheer willpower alone.

Lizzy started to panic – if they didn't have the key then there was no way they could get into the mountain, meaning that the entire quest would be ruined.

The pile of goods was a few steps in front of her, if only there was some way she could reach down to get the key without the Goblins noticing …

"What are you doing in these parts?" the Great Goblin demanded, rousing her from her thoughts. The company remained silent and stony faced, all of them glaring daggers at this repulsive creature. "No one?" he added gloatingly, apparently pleased that they weren't speaking.

An evil smile spread over his face and he turned to one of his Goblin lieutenants. "Bring forward the girl."

Lizzy barely had time to even gasp before she was pulled forward, away from the company and standing just before their small pile of belongings. She was forced down to her knees once more, two Goblins on either side of her keeping her down with their claws pressed into her shoulders. The Great Goblin lent down to look at her with his wild, bulging eyes and she was overwhelmed by the foulness of his breath on her face, gagging a little as the smell hit her.

"Speak," he commanded her, his face close to hers.

Completely loosing her tongue, she simply stared silently up at him in wide eyed horror. He seemed to realise she wasn't going to talk, and so straightened to address the Dwarves once more. "Any words to save your pretty companion?" he asked them, and while she heard the faint shuffling of their feet, the Dwarves remained silent.

"Very well! If _they_ will not talk, we'll make _her_ squawk!" he called out to the assembled Goblins, who started jeering in eager anticipation. "Bring out the _nine-tails!_"

_The nine-tails?_ she thought as the Goblin's howled in glee. Oh god, this was different to what she was expecting – her presence here had clearly changed things,she realised in panic, now she had no idea what was coming.

When she had thought that Goblin-town would be exactly like the book or movie she had sort of been able to deal with it, enough for her to keep going and not simply turn around and head back to Rivendell anyway, but now fear of the unknown was racing through her and she had a horrible lump of anxiety in her stomach at the idea of events changing because of her.

She glanced down at the key once more: if they couldn't get that back then far more than simply Goblin-town would change, _everything_ would be different.

She jerked her head back violently when the Great Goblin touched her face, smearing the blood on her chin with his clawed thumb as he touched her cheek. "It would almost be a shame to mar such pretty skin, but I will do it with pleasure," he practically crooned at her. "Tell me, what you were doing up in the mountains at all, and where you were coming from, and where you were going to?"

She shook her head no, freeing herself from his hand. Wasn't Thorin meant to intervene? In the film he had stepped forward the moment the Great Goblin mentioned torture devices, but now he was staying silent behind her.

Lizzy swallowed hard, wondering if he was angry enough with her to actually allow her to be tortured.

"Last chance, girly. I bet you scream beautifully," he said, giving her a vicious smile, seemingly pleased that she was refusing. He was playing with her, she realised with a flash of anger.

She had never liked bullies: her very first conversation with Thorin had been her standing up for Bilbo when the Dwarf King was rude to him and twice in school she had been in trouble for getting into skirmishes with bullies (once when she was seven and had bitten a boy for teasing her younger brother, and once when she was slightly older and standing up for herself against a group of girls and had ended up in a hair-pulling fight).

She opened her mouth to retort but no sound came out.

"Yes?" the Goblin questioned condescendingly, leaning right over her.

Finally, the words she had been trying to form found their way past her lips, coming out in a quiet croak but audible and defiant nonetheless. "Go _fuck_ yourself."

The whip she hadn't even known was behind her fell across her clothed back, making her skin explode in agony. It was the worst pain she had ever felt and she genuinely screamed at the sensation, tumbling forwards over their pile of belongings and instinctively curling into the foetal position in an attempt to protect herself.

"_Wait_!" she heard Thorin shout through a haze of pain.

* * *

Thorin watched as Miss Darrow was pulled away and forced to her knees once more, suppressing the urge to reach forward and yank her back into the relative safety of the company. He resisted this urge for two reasons: firstly the Goblins would exploit any protective feelings the Dwarves displayed and would only make things worse for her if they interfered; and secondly he was utterly furious with her.

It was painfully obvious that she had known all of this would happen, yet much like with the Giants she had neglected to speak – and he simply couldn't understand _why_. When they had been captured by the Goblins her expression had been one of resigned fear, the look of one who had walked knowingly to their fate. It was only when the Goblins had started touching and pinching her that she had grown more agitated, and with good reason too: he had heard whispers about the atrocities Goblins and Orcs committed towards women.

Now, kneeling before the Great Goblin, she looked positively terrified – the vile creature was talking about torturing her and Thorin forced himself to hold his tongue.

Her lip had been split at some point during their capture and she had blood trickling down her chin. The Goblin was cupping her cheek, swiping one clawed thumb over her lips in mockery of a tender fashion and deliberately smudging the blood across her face. Had his sword been in his hands at that moment, the Great Goblin would have lost one of his.

However, half of his attention was on their small pile of belongings that had been taken from their persons, with their packs all heaped to one side of the small platform they were on. The Goblins had pulled the key to Erebor from the golden chain it had hung upon around his neck and added it to their pile, thankfully unaware of what it was they had taken from him.

And if they could not get the key back then their quest would be at an end.

"Uncle," Kili said in a worried voice, quiet and intense, his eyes fixed on Miss Darrow – he was clearly wondering why he hadn't interfered but speaking now would do her no favours and a small, vindictive part of him wanted her to reap the consequences of her actions in concealing these events from him.

He noticed the Goblin guard approaching to stand behind her with a long, vicious looking whip in his hands – the thong split into nine tails, each tipped with metal, designed to leave deep, parallel stripes on the skin – and his heart just about stopped. He immediately regretted his earlier thoughts: when he had thought that he wanted her to reap the consequences he had only meant that she be scared and realise the foolishness of her actions, not that she be tortured.

The Goblin behind her was practically shivering with excitement and anticipation, the whip quivering in his hands with the metal barbs dancing, shining red as they caught the firelight – he couldn't allow her to be treated thus, and so made the decision to speak.

Then, all of a sudden, he heard her voice – quiet and resistive – telling the Great Goblin to _go fuck himself _in her own unique and defiant way.

"_Wait_!" he shouted instantly, stepping forward away from the company – but he was too late, the whip had already fallen.

The Goblins were shrieking with rage at her insult and the one holding the whip had snarled and bought it slashing down across her back to moment the words had left her lips, tearing its way through the shirts she wore – she'd screamed, loud and gut-wrenching, twisting free of the Goblins that held her shoulders as she writhed in pain and falling face-first across their pile of belongings.

The Great Goblin observed him stepping forward with a gloating expression, not having noticed or distinguished him from among the company when they were first captured. "Well, well, well! Look who it is!" he said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain," he finished with a mocking bow, but Thorin was too preoccupied to be truly insulted by this foul abomination: he looked to Miss Darrow, who was slowly emerging from the protective ball she had curled into, realising more blows from the whip were not imminent. The whip had caused tears in her shirts and there was blood slowly staining the materiel. She moved as if she was in great pain and he noticed that she was trembling, with tears running down her cheeks, though she was well enough to raise her head and glare reproachfully at the Goblin.

The Great Goblin then pretended to remember something. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain, and you're not a King, which makes you … nobody, really."

"He's ten times the King you are, you son of a bitch," Miss Darrow quietly spat up at the Goblin from where she knelt, her previous fear being replaced by fury: her eyes were sparkling with anger behind the tears and her bound hands were clenched into fists.

The Goblin guard with the whip moved as if to strike her again, but the Great Goblin stopped him with a wave of his hand and an evil laugh. "You are eager to defend him, girly" he observed, looking between the two of them with growing comprehension. "Have you taken a wife, Durin's son?"

Thorin glanced to Miss Darrow once more, who was blinking in surprise at the Goblins assumption, but did not reply.

"You _have_!" the Goblin said gleefully, misinterpreting both their silence and the look between them. "And a human bride too – dear me, what _would_ your grandfather say?"

"Release her," Thorin ordered, fuming at the Great Goblin's words.

"You are in no position to be making demands, Dwarf," the Goblin reminded him. Then he seemed to realise something and gave a sinister chuckle. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head – her's too, perhaps. Just a head, nothing attached."

Thorin masked his confusion well, not knowing of any living enemies who hated him enough to put a bounty on his head.

"Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours," the Goblin continued, enjoying his ignorance. "A Pale Orc, astride a white warg."

The blood froze in Thorin's veins at the familiar description: one of the only reasons he slept soundly in his bed at night was the knowledge that the abomination the Great Goblin was describing was dead. There was no way that monster could have survived the loss of his hand, not in those filthy conditions – the Goblin was clearly toying with him. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed," he said with confidence since he himself had dealt the death blow, avenging his family. "He was slain in battle long ago."

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" he asked with what could only be described as a cruel, mad giggle, turning aside to address a small Goblin scribe. "Send word to the Pale Orc, tell him I have found his prize," he said and the Goblin went skittering away into the darkness.

Still chuckling, the Goblin returned his attention to his prisoners. He reached forward to touch Miss Darrow's face once more but kept his eyes on Thorin, judging his reaction. "You will not think that for long, Durin's son – who knows, perhaps the Pale Orc will keep you alive long enough to witness his introduction to your pretty bride. He will not like it if I had a go first, such a pity," he added insolently, his hand moving down her neck.

"Don't _touch_ me," she said, jerking away from his clawed hand and then wincing as the movement clearly aggravated the wounds on her back.

The Great Goblin snarled and shoved her backwards. Unable to steady herself with her bound hands, she twisted awkwardly, landing on her side and gasping in pain. "You would do well to curb your tongue, girly," the Goblin threatened as she struggled upright once more. "Otherwise Azog might cut it out.

He saw Miss Darrow's mouth clamp closed at the threat, the fear in her gaze increasing – and Thorin felt the first twinge of doubt: the Great Goblin at least seemed to believe that Azog lived, and while he had dealt a death blow he had not actually seen the Orc die …

The Great Goblin chuckled once more at there sudden silence, his threat having done the trick. "I have no need for the rest of your company so let's have some _entertainment_ before our esteemed guest arrives, I'll make you watch the deaths of your companions before I give you to the Pale Orc," he promised before turning to address the assembled Goblins in a loud voice with his arms outstretched. "Bring up the Mangler! Bring the Bone-Breaker!"

Thorin took the opportunity of the Goblin's distraction to pull Miss Darrow to her feet with a little difficulty due to his own bound hands and dragged her a few steps backwards so that they were no longer quite so exposed and standing with the company once more.

"Don't worry, Gandalf will come," she whispered quietly to him, her voice tight.

Thorin looked at her. Her face was white with pain and streaked with tears, the blood on her mouth and chin standing out luridly. There was dark, sticky stain of blood spreading between her shoulder blades and she was holding herself awkwardly as her eyes darted around the cavern.

"And you know this, do you?" he breathed back, taking her words as confirmation that she had known all of this would happen. When he had confronted her about the Giants she had said that they _had_ to go this way – so surely she had meant that they _had_ to be captured for some reason that was apparently important to their quest, but as it was he could see nothing that could possibly help them and was therefore seriously questioning her judgement.

She nodded, the slightest movement so as not to draw attention. "He will be here soon, any minute."

"Where are those torture instruments? I want to hear these Dwarves _mewl_ before they die!" The Great Goblin was shouting to the Goblins as they talked in hushed voices, then he started to sing.

"_Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! _

_You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung! _

_You will die down here and never be found! _

_Down in the deep of Goblin-town!" _

The goblins surrounding them started being even more vicious, spurred on by their leader. The company was shoved and pinched, being pushed forward towards where the torture instruments were approaching, with the Dwarves all trying to twist free of the Goblins.

There was a sudden shriek from one side – several of the Goblins had been covetously squabbling over and fingering their weapons, one of them had partially drawn Orcrist and had apparently recognised the blade, tossing it away from him in terror.

"I know that sword!" the Great Goblin said, recoiling and half climbing his throne in fear. "It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter! The blade that slashed a thousand necks!"

In their anger the Goblin guards attacked them in earnest – the one wielding the whip sent it snapping in their direction and Thorin turned to protect Miss Darrow, taking the blow on his armoured shoulder.

"Slash them, beat them, peel them!" the Goblin ordered. "Kill the rest of them, but I want Thorin and the girl _alive_!"

The two of them were separated from the company, the rest of whom were fighting for their lives with their bear hands, each of them with half a dozen Goblins pulling at their limps. In the melee he saw Miss Darrow frantically screaming and twisting as Goblins clawed at her clothing, tearing rips in her black trousers.

Then all of sudden there was a blinding white light and strong wind, the Goblins surrounding him being torn from where they were gripping his body.

The lights had all gone out – there was nothing but darkness and silence.

* * *

**Oh dear me, another cliff hanger …**

**Reviews are welcome, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter, and for this weeks question … which character in Middle Earth would you absolutely NOT like to meet?**

**Also, a big thank you to my anonymous readers and guests – I normally reply to reviews, so wanted to thank you for your support :) **

**Again, will probably be a week or so (hopefully less) for the next chapter – I have a busy week this week , I've been to and from work and uni because I am GRADUATING tomorrow, scary times!**

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions about the story or characters on my Tumblr ~_kindle-the-stars_**


	15. Out of the frying-pan

_Possible trigger warnings in this chapter_

* * *

"**Courage isn't just a matter of not being frightened, you know. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway."**

_**Doctor Who, Third Doctor**_

* * *

Lizzy was dragged away from the rest of the company kicking and screaming as Goblins scratched her body, yanking at her hair and tearing holes in her trousers with their sharp claws. She thrashed violently, the movements only aggravating the agonising wounds on her back, but to no avail. She was being held by at least six Goblins, none of whom were being particularly gentle with her, as she was separated from the relative safety of her group.

All of a sudden bright white light exploded around the cavern, a hot, strong wind tearing the Goblins from her and burning away the ropes on her wrists, leaving her skin unharmed save for where the rough ropes had chafed. Lizzy's heart leapt within her chest and she breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Gandalf had arrived at last.

She had known he would come imminently, but she had been terrified that the Goblins would find the key she had clenched in one fist before he could arrive to save them.

Several minutes previously, when she had inadvertently twisted free of the Goblins that held her shoulders after the whip had struck her, she had fallen face-first over the pile of belongings that had been taken from them and curled into a protective ball. Quite by chance she had felt the cold metal of the key against the back of her bound hands and had quickly grabbed it, hiding it between her fingers as she sat up. The knowledge that the Goblins had not unwittingly put a premature end to their quest had given her the courage to sit up and glare defiantly at the Great Goblin despite her pain.

The darkness that followed the flash of light held no terror for her and she squinted towards where Gandalf was emerging from the gloom, taking the opportunity to thrust the key deep into one of the pockets of her sadly torn cargo trousers while everyone was disorientated.

"Take up arms," Gandalf ordered in a deep, resonant voice. "Fight … _Fight_!"

The Dwarves instantly shoved the Goblins off themselves and dived for their pile of weapons, tossing them to each other. Bofur pushed Naethring into her hand, sheath and all, as he grabbed his hat from the floor and she awkwardly drew the sword, the movement sending a twinge of pain through her aching back.

"He wields the Foe-hammer!" the Great Goblin said in fear, looking to the Wizard. "The Beater, bright as daylight!"

Several Goblin's had fled from the platform at the sight of Gandalf with his great, shining sword, but the rest of them were recovering from their shock and preparing to fight. The one with the whip ran at Lizzy, his hideous face contorted into a snarl. She instinctively performed one of the jabbing moves Dwalin had taught her, catching it deep in the stomach with the tip of her sword. The Goblin howled and stumbled back, holding one clawed-hand over the bleeding wound. She saw the pain in its bulging eyes, blood gushing between its fingers, and she immediately felt sick to the stomach – the feeling passed quickly as the Goblin lunged at her again, this time she caught it across the throat and it fell down dead at her feet.

She fell to her knees and retched, her sword dropping from her nerveless fingers. She had actually taken a life, she realised in sick horror. Luckily this moment of weakness did not cost her own life since the Goblins around her were preoccupied fighting Gandalf and the Dwarves, who were attacking them with vicious ferocity.

She noticed the Great Goblin rallying through his fear, scoping up his staff tipped with a horned skull and making to bring it crashing down on Thorin.

"Thorin!" she yelled to warn him and he turned in time to catch the blow on his sword, the strength of his arm sending the Goblin reeling backwards and stumbling down over the edge of the platform.

This feat sent the Goblins surrounding him skittering away in terror, meaning Thorin had a moment when he wasn't under attack. Lizzy saw him bend to the floor, quickly swiping a hand through their scattered pile of belongings. "The key! Where is it?" she heard him shout, but had no opportunity to tell him it was in her possession before another Goblin noticed where she was kneeling and ran at her.

She scooped up her sword and stabbed upwards, impaling it with the momentum of its own running without much effort on her part. It fell almost on top of her and she pulled her sword free with difficulty, hearing a faint squelch and looking down at the black blood with bile rising in her throat once more.

The company had killed most of the Goblin on the platform but dozens more were quickly descending from the walkways above, shrieking in anger and hatred. They had a brief moment to grab packs, with Bifur grabbing hers as well as his own, and then they followed Gandalf off the platform.

Aside from the initial excruciation of the whip, being forced to run caused pain like she had never felt. Every step she took sent sharp jabs through the wounds on her back until it all blurred together into an agonising, cramping pain that spread out across her shoulders and down her spine. Were it not for Nori pushing her from behind whenever she stumbled or slowed down she might not have made it.

They had a handful of seconds where they were just running, giving themselves a bit of a head-start, but the Goblins knew their own paths far better than they did so they quickly caught up and the company was attacked once more.

Lizzy stuck behind Dwalin while they ran, his bulk and ferocious fighting skills keeping most of the Goblins that attacked them at bay. One Goblin slipped past his guard, lunging for her, and she shoved it backwards with all her strength, sending it toppling over the poorly made railing of the walkway – in the split second before it fell she saw the terror in its eyes.

Dwalin suddenly skidded to a halt in front of her and she just stopped herself short of careening into his back. Looking over his shoulder, she saw several Goblins running towards them – too many to fight. Dwalin hacked one of the ropes that secured the railing and they all grabbed it, using it to sweep the path clear of the Goblins while Dwalin roared a battle cry.

Aside from the films, Lizzy had never seen the Dwarves in action before – and real life was somewhat different. Mild-mannered and fussy Dori had turned into a highly competent and strong warrior, swinging his weapon high over his head and knocking numerous Goblins away at once, meanwhile Balin did not seem so old as usual when he single-handedly dispatched several attackers with great flourishes of his sword. However it was Thorin that captured her attention – whenever she caught a glimpse of him he was twisting and slicing with all the elegance of a dance, his coat flaring around him. Had she had the time to spare, she would have been mesmerised by his savagery, ruthlessly hacking and cutting them a path through the Goblins, his eyes burning with fury.

Suddenly they found themselves on a walkway, one of the Dwarves cutting the ropes so it swung free over a vast chasm – someone grabbed her hand and she was forced to jump as the walkway swung to the far edge, rolling awkwardly as she landed. She cried out in pain but had no time to recover before the rest of the company jumped to join them. She was hauled to her feet and forced to run once more, practically dragged behind Gloin while she whimpered in protest.

She found herself towards the rear of the company, simply trying her best to keep up with the Dwarves as they pushed a boulder that Gandalf had freed from above them with a flash of magic, squashing the Goblins in their path. She felt like she was running on pure adrenalin by this point, her legs aching and her back burning painfully with every gasping breath she took.

They had a bit of a reprieve where they were not attacked as they crossed a narrow bridge and turned onto a new walkway – then suddenly the Great Goblin burst through the floor from below, sending the company skidding to a halt. Goblins quickly flooded the path in front and behind them though they didn't attack, watching eagerly what their leader would do instead.

"You thought you could escape me?" he demanded, swiping his skull-topped staff at Gandalf who dodged the blow. "What are you going to do now, Wizard?"

In response Gandalf quickly jabbed upwards with his own staff, catching the Great Goblin in the eye. He yowled in pain and Gandalf took the opportunity of his lowered defences to slash his sword across his stomach, slicing through the fatty tissue and making the Goblin fall to it's knees.

"That'll do it," the Great Goblin said, sounding reluctantly impressed, and Gandalf finished him off with a quick slice across his throat.

The bridge they were on groaned in protest as the Goblin collapsed forward, loosening from its fastenings. Remembering what was coming, Lizzy quickly grabbed one of the posts while the Dwarves all tried to keep their balance on the tilting bridge. "Hold on!" she shouted as the final support snapped and the bridge dropped a few feet, sending her stomach flying up into her mouth, before they were caught on the rock wall and started sliding down into the deep abyss.

Every single jarring movement of the rock sent agony exploding between her shoulder-blades and black spots flickering in her vision. _There is no way I am going to survive this one, _was her final thought as the ground rushed up to meet them.

* * *

Thorin could scarcely believe they were all still alive after that fall, the walkway they had been on had collapsed and fallen the entire way down a vast chasm until its momentum was jarringly stopped by the narrowing rock walls. Miraculously, the entire company had managed to stay together as they fought their way free from Goblin-town, though each step hap been heavy for him, knowing he was leaving the key to Erebor behind somewhere in that cavern.

He angrily shoved a plank away and freed himself from the wreckage of the walkway, his blood still burning with the heat of battle. He was furious, knowing there was no way they could reclaim the key now – did that mean that their quest was at an end? He wanted to find Miss Darrow and wring some answers from her.

Around him the dazed Dwarves were looking around, seemingly surprised that they were all still alive. "Well that could have been worse," Bofur said in his usual blunt and dry manner.

The words had scarcely left his mouth when the Great Goblin's body came crashing down on top of those still underneath the wreckage. There were groans abound from the company as they struggled to free themselves from beneath his weight. "You've got to be joking," he heard Dwalin grumble.

Thorin suddenly noticed a dainty, tanned hand pushing weakly at one of the beams and he strode forwards, shoving it to one side to reveal a very dishevelled and bloodied Elizabeth Darrow beneath it. She was a state, covered in scrapes and bruises, her clothing dirty and torn. The cut on her head from earlier had reopened, matting her messy hair with blood and there was blood covering the entire lower half of her ashen-white face from her split lip, drying in brown trails down her neck. Dust and dirt had dried into the tear-tracks on her cheeks and her normally bright eyes were dull as grey stone.

"Get up," he ordered, pushing more of the fragmented wood off her.

"I can't ..." she breathed in a voice that was tight with pain as his ministrations jolted her injured body, her eyelids fluttering dangerously close to loosing consciousness.

He noticed the flood of Goblins approaching them from a distance, clearly enraged at the death of their king. Gandalf was saying that the only thing that could save them now was daylight and hoisting the rest of the company to their feet, urging them to run.

He put his face close to hers, taking her chin between his fingers so that she was forced to look at him, blinking through her disorientation. "If you do not move now then you will be tortured, raped, killed and eaten," he said in a quiet snarl as he freed her from the last of the debris. "Pull yourself together Miss Darrow, there will be time for hysterics later."

She whimpered but nevertheless made a visible effort to get to her feet – far too slowly, there was no way she would be able to run in her condition.

Thorin swore under his breath in Khuzdul and swept her up into his arms, sword and all, and ran to follow the rest of the company. He heard a faint squeak of surprise and then her body went limp in his arms. Despite how furious he was with her (it was her fault they had lost the key after all) there was no way he could possibly leave her behind.

* * *

Lizzy had actually blacked out - fainted – swooned – whatever you wanted to call it, and when she because aware of here senses again she realised she was being carried by … someone, though she couldn't see who it was because her eyelids felt too heavy to lift. There was the softness of fur beneath her cheek and she burrowed her head deeper into the persons chest. Inhaling deeply, she smelt sweat, leather, tobacco and (less pleasantly) blood. She slowly blinked her eyes open and frowned at the armour in front of her – small, hexagonal silver plates with metal studs, partially covered with a dark blue tunic – instantly familiar.

The last thing she remembered was being spoken to by Thorin, who had her chin between his thumb and fore-finger, though she couldn't remember what he had said – now it appeared that he was carrying her as he ran.

Every movement jolted her and sent twinges between her shoulders but she still felt secure in his arms, knowing that they were nearly free of Goblin-town. They burst out into the sunlight and she instantly closed her eyes again against the brightness, turning her head deeper into the fur of his coat. The jolting increased as Thorin leapt over rocks and down a hill, dodging between trees, though he held her tight to his chest and protected her from the worst of the jarring movements.

They drew to a stop and she heard Gandalf counting everyone. "Where's Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?" she heard him say as he came up one person short. "_Where is our Hobbit?_"

Lizzy felt herself being lowered gently to the ground and suddenly Fili's voice was right above her, a hand pushing her knotted hair away from her face. "Is she alright?" she heard him ask.

"Wake her up, I need to speak with her as soon as possible," she heard Thorin reply gruffly, breathing deeply after running. She remembered that in all likelihood he was hopping-mad at her. As such, she kept her eyes closed until she felt him leave.

"Lizzy?" she heard Kili say in a soft, worried voice, and so cracked her eyes open. Both Fili and Kili were kneeling over her and looking at her with concern, Fili supporting her half on the ground and half in his arms. Both of them breathed sighs of relief when they saw her open her eyes.

"I'm … okay," she said, her voice quavering, not entirely sure of the truth of this statement. Her back was throbbing in pain and she could feel the stickiness of copious amounts of blood beneath her t-shirts, which was probably the cause of her light-headedness. Her stomach was still swirling with nausea from killing those Goblins and numerous cuts were stinging all over her body.

She had said that she was okay, but in reality she didn't think she had ever felt worse in her life, not even when she's had the stomach flu while at university.

Disoriented, she struggled to sit up, still supported by Fili, and looked around the company to make sure everyone was uninjured. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, it appeared that they had all made it out unharmed.

Gandalf had just discovered that none of the Dwarves knew where Bilbo was, though Nori thought he had seen him slip away when they were first captured. "What happened exactly? Tell me!" the Wizard demanded.

It was Thorin who replied, his voice ringing with anger, his sword still drawn. "I'll tell you what happened: Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again, he is long gone."

Lizzy looked around her, hoping Bilbo had indeed made it out of the caves as he was supposed to – otherwise all of Goblin-town would have been for naught.

Sure enough, she saw him stepping out from behind a tree and relief coursed through her. "No, he isn't," Bilbo said, looking at Thorin. The rest of the Dwarves looked surprised, though mostly pleased, to see him. Thorin, however, simply planted the tip of his sword in the ground and glared at the Hobbit, his hands wrapped around Orcrist's hilt.

"Bilbo Baggins, I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life," Gandalf said, the worry leaving his voice.

"Bilbo, we'd given you up!" Kili said, grinning at the Hobbit.

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins?" Fili asked.

"How indeed?" Dwalin wanted to know, looking at Bilbo suspiciously.

There was a pause and then Bilbo laughed nervously, wagging a finger at them as if he wouldn't tell. He put his hand into his pocket – it was only because she was looking for it that she saw the flash of gold as he slipped the ring into his waistcoat.

"What does it matter?" Gandalf said with a determinedly nonchalant air, his eyes also on the pocket of Bilbo's waistcoat, which was missing several of it's brass buttons. "He's back."

Thorin quickly looked at the Wizard. "It matters. I want to know." He seemed to be making a determined effort to control his voice as he asked, "Why did you come back?"

Bilbo simply gazed at Thorin for a few seconds, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Eventually, he spoke. "Look, I know you doubt me. I know … I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End," he said with wry self-deprecation. "I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong, that's _home_. And that's why I came back, because … you don't have one. A home. It was _taken_ from you." There was a long pause, and Lizzy noticed that Thorin looked staggered by this speech and all of the Dwarves were listening in. "But I will help you take it back if I can," Bilbo finished and there was a long silence in the wake of his speech.

* * *

Thorin felt … _humbled_ at the little man's words. Yes, the Hobbit was still a burden and quite frankly it was a wonder that he had survived so far, especially if he had been alone under the mountain, but not once had he considered that Mr Baggins had given up his own home to help them to recover theirs. He had accused Mr Baggins of thinking of nothing but his home, but really wasn't he just as guilty of the same crime? Bilbo was trying his best to help them as best he could and there was absolutely no reason for him to be here in the company other than his goodness.

"Very well," he said eventually, acknowledging the Hobbit's words in as few of his own as he could manage. He turned to face Elizabeth Darrow, noticing that she had regained consciousness and was now sitting up between his nephews. He pointed his bloodstained sword at her, much to Fili and Kili's surprise. "Now _you_."

She flinched and her face immediately paled at the anger in his voice. "I'm sorry -"

"Save your apologies, explain yourself," he interrupted, keeping his voice low and controlled, belaying the depths of the fury waiting to be unleashed.

The rest of the company was understandably confused by his sudden, apparently undeserved hostility towards their advisor. They exchanged glances and looks of surprise and he saw the Wizard lean heavily on his staff with a look of resignation.

Balin started to speak. "Thorin, what -"

He sent him a quick glare, silencing his old friend mid-sentence, and then returned his eyes to Miss Darrow. She was breathing deeply, looking apologetic and miserable, her face pinched in pain. She glanced around the confused company before replying in a soft voice, as if she didn't want the others to hear. "You know I am trying to change things, but certain events _have_ to happen."

"Because a story says so?" he growled as the rest of the Dwarves followed their conversation with bemused worry.

Miss Darrow shook her head.. "It's not just about the story, what happened under that mountain was important to the _whole_ of Middle Earth," she said plaintively.

"I find that hard to believe," he scoffed, starting to loose control of the tight reign he held his temper on. "Do you not understand how foolish your actions were?"

"I -"

"By withholding the information that you know you endangered the lives of this _entire_ _company_!" he continued over her, his voice rising to a shout and making her flinch again.

"I knew you would all come out of there alive," she replied defensively, as if that excused her actions. Her eyes, the only clean thing on her filthy face, were huge and entreating him to understand.

"Yet you were willing to take that risk?"

"Yes!" she said instantly, her own voice starting to rise as well in response to his snarling anger despite how weak and shaky she still was.

_"Why?"_

Something seemed to snap inside her at his thundered question. "Because of him!" she practically shrieked at him, pointing wildly at Mr Baggins.

Bilbo, thoroughly stupefied by their conversation along with the others, blinked in shock at being singled out so. "Me?"

Miss Darrow put her head in her hands, abruptly weary, seemingly regretting her outburst. "Bilbo, what you did in that cave – that creature you met, what you said and what you found – it's all _so_ important, you have no idea how important it all is."

Mr Baggins looked stunned, one hand flying to the pocket of his now-buttonless waistcoat. "How could you possibly -"

"More important than the lives of my men?" Thorin asked harshly, speaking over Bilbo. He didn't know what Miss Darrow was talking about when she had addressed the Hobbit: Mr Baggins had been separated from them since before they were bought before the Great Goblin and apparently she was under the impression that he had done something important in that time.

However, he failed to see how _anything_ Mr Baggins could have done could equal the importance of the key to Erebor, which they had lost due to her actions.

"Yes!" she retorted immediately once more and he was surprised at her callousness, that she would risk their safety just to follow a story – really it was a miracle they had all made it out of there alive, with hers being the worst injuries. She started to climb awkwardly to her feet and was automatically assisted by his nephews. "And now we have to keep moving!"

"I – what's going on?" Bilbo asked, looking between the two of them. "How could you possibly know what happened to me down there?" he asked Miss Darrow.

"I think that is something we would all like to know, laddie," Balin said, his face uncharacteristically grave. "Neither of you are speaking sense, Thorin. In what way was our capture Miss Lizzy's fault?"

"Thorin ..." she said beseechingly, leaning heavily on Kili, her eyes silently entreating him not to tell them.

He turned to address the rest of the company. "As you know she is from another world, but in that world our quest is a legend," he bitingly revealed since at present he was in no mood to humour her silent entreaties. Fili and Kili both gave him mildly reproving looks for revealing her secret so candidly, but unlike his nephews he had sworn no oath to secrecy. "She has knowledge of how our journey will unfold and yet failed to speak up at both the Stone Giants and when we were about to be captured by Goblins."

The company's reaction to this was mixed, with some of them looking sceptical and others giving her mingled looks of shock and reproach. "Is that true?" Bombur asked quietly, currently nursing a nasty cut on one arm.

"Yes," Miss Darrow sighed, glancing at Gandalf who stood silent and resolute, apparently resigning herself to explaining. She seemed diminished, her shoulders hunched and clutching her elbows tightly, clearly still in pain. "There is a book in my world about this quest and … all of you are characters."

Dwalin was scowling at her, his hand tight on the hilt of his still bloodied axe. "So you knew we would be captured?"

She nodded miserably, avoiding everyone's eyes and looking down at her toes, hunching her back further. "I'm sorry – it was important and it had to happen." Seemingly recollecting herself, she returned to her previous point and lifted her gaze to his once more. "But right now we need to get moving."

"_Important_?" Thorin repeated scathingly, his voice rising once more. "_We lost the damn key!_" he bellowed at her, coming to the crux of the matter and taking several steps towards her.

"What?" Gandalf interjected sharply, speaking for the first time since Bilbo's arrival.

"There is no way into the mountain without it and since you are so _knowledgeable_ about events, I'd like you to explain to me how we are supposed to continue on our quest now!" he roared right in her face, making her flinch away from him for the third time in less than an minute, ignoring the Wizards outburst.

"You lost the key?" Gandalf interjected once more.

"It was taken from me when we were searched," Thorin snapped in explanation, not removing his eyes from Miss Darrow.

"Elizabeth …" the Wizard said slowly, sounding very worried.

"Oh never _mind_ that now," she said, recovering from her fright and shaking herself free from Kili's supporting arm. She was apparently unconcerned that they had lost the key to Erebor, which only increased his fury. "Right now we need to _move_!"

"No, I demand a proper explanation," he snarled, stepping angrily towards her once more so that he was staring her down with their faces only scant inches apart. "You mentioned Mr Baggins and something he found in the caves, I want you to tell me what it is you apparently value more than the lives of this company and _why_ you allowed our only chance of getting into the mountain to be taken from us."

She shook her head defiantly, her eyes darting around the trees. "Not _now_, we need to get going!"

"That was an order, Miss Darrow, not a request," he clarified, recognising her attempts to get the company to move on as a ploy to avoid confronting his ire, much as she had done in Rivendell after their incident with the trolls.

"And this is me _not_ telling you, are you even _listening_ to me?" she asked agitatedly. "We need to _go_!"

Loosing what little patience he had, Thorin turned to Mr Baggins, who cringed slightly under his angry glare. "Mr Baggins, what did you find?"

"Don't answer that, Bilbo," Miss Darrow interjected instantly.

"You _will_ answer me," he growled at the Hobbit.

Poor Bilbo was swivelling his head between the two of them, looking highly uncomfortable. "I … I'd really rather not take sides," he said awkwardly.

"Good, now we _really_ need to go," she said, taking a few shaky steps around him.

Not liking her attempts to simply brush this off, he grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face him. "Not until I am satisfied, I have half a mind to cast you from this company here and now!" he threatened, grabbing her other arm as well and holding her tightly so that they were face to face, seeing her wince in pain. "Your actions today were insupportable and as of yet I have not heard anything that comes even remotely close to an acceptable explanation -"

"Thorin, will you just shut up and _listen_ to me?" she yelled over him, making him blink at her in shock over her disrespect. She took advantage of his brief silence. "This isn't over, night is falling and Azog the Defiler is about to lead a whole troupe of wargs over that ridge, so _we – need – to - move!_"

"Azog was destroyed …" he said slowly, no longer as certain of this fact after his conversation with the Great Goblin.

Miss Darrow was shaking her head., reading the uncertainty in his face. "No, he wasn't. The Great Goblin was right about that and you are about to see it with your own eyes – feel free to tell me off as much as you like later, but right now can we please stop chit-chatting and _run_?"

Her words were followed by the unmistakable sound of an Orc-horn ringing far too close to comfort.

"Out of the frying-pan …" Thorin said softly, releasing her elbows.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished for him. "I believe following Miss Darrow's advice at this point would be wise – _run_."

* * *

**The next chapter will not be up until at least after next weekend – I have a test Saturday morning that I need to revise for, so I'm not going to have as much time to write this week. **

**Thanks for all your well-wishes for my graduation! I had such a good day, though I was boiling in the black robes!**

**Also, thank you to all my anon / non-signed in reviews that I can't reply to – your reviews are appreciated! :D**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr ~_kindle-the-stars_**

**This weeks question is about my story … if you could ask any of the characters in my version a question, what would it be? **

**(Can you tell I am running out of question ideas? We are really scraping the barrel here!)**


	16. Into the fire

___Possible trigger warnings_

* * *

_"**Every flight begins with a fall."**_

_**George R. R. Martin, **__**A Game of Thrones**_

* * *

The Dwarves all immediately started running further down the hill in the wake of the Wizard's long strides and Lizzy was left blinking in surprise that she was actually being listened to, her words being constantly rebuffed for the past few minutes. Her heart was beating like a drum in her chest, having been riled up in her argument with Thorin and the sudden fear of Azog's approach. She had not forgotten about the imminent encounter with the Pale Orc, but she had been focusing on getting through Goblin-town alive before bending her mind to how she could possibly survive the troupe of wargs and Orcs descending upon them.

If she could barely stand now, how on earth was she meant to run and climb trees?

"Here, on my back," Fili said urgently, turning his back to her and crouching slightly.

"What?" she said stupidly as a warg's howl rent the air in the distance.

"You can barely stand, you certainly can't run – now come on!" he said impatiently, mirroring her thoughts from a few seconds ago.

Lizzy squeaked in surprise as she felt Thorin's large, strong hands wrap around her waist and lift her easily into the air, depositing her unceremoniously onto Fili's back as if she were as light as a doll. She desperately clung around his neck to stop herself sliding ungracefully down as Fili took off at a sprint, seemingly unhindered by her clinging to his back like a barnacle.

They were running for several long minutes, during which time she noticed the light gradually fading. She did some quick calculations in her head: the thunderstorm and Stone Giants had been in the early afternoon and Thorin had halted the company in the shelter of the cave despite nightfall still being several hours away. That meant now was the evening of the same day, their adventure under the mountain being a few hours at the most.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that Thorin had tried to calm her fears back in that cave, speaking softly to her and lightly touching her face.

A howl tore the air behind them; Lizzy twisted painfully to look over her shoulder and promptly shrieked at the sight of several rider-less wargs bearing down on them. "Fili, behind us!"

Hearing her exclamation, Kili nocked an arrow as he ran and then abruptly turned to fire, hitting the closest warg full on in the chest, causing it to stumble and fall. The other wargs were quickly dispatched by other members of the company, but the Orcs were still approaching.

"Up into the trees," Gandalf ordered, realising that their path fell away at the edge of the cliff and that they literally had nowhere else to go. "All of you! Come on, climb!"

Fili halted them at the base of the tree that Kili was gracefully swinging himself up into. "Not that one!" Lizzy said hastily, realising that this was one of the trees that would fall.

"What?"

"_That_ one!" she shouted, pointing at the tree at the edge of the cliff that Gandalf was hoisting himself into.

"Why?" Fili questioned, his eyes on his brother above them.

"Story stuff, just _trust_ me," she said entreatingly into his ear and he quickly jogged to Gandalf's tree and allowed her to slide painfully off his back.

"What about Kili?" he asked as he bent down and linked his hands together for her to step up on, boosting her up onto the lowest branch.

"He'll be fine," she promised, but her voice turned into a gasp of pain as she tried to lift herself onto the branch and hold on, her arms trembling and her back protesting with every movement. Noticing this, Gandalf quickly descended a few branches to assist her from where she was helplessly dangling as Fili swung himself into the tree in the same manner his brother had. Between the two of them lifting and pushing her, they all managed to ascend high enough to be safe for a few moments. Even though she had not had to exert much effort to climb, most of the work being done by the Dwarf and Wizard, she was still shaking from the exertion and pain.

"Here," Gandalf said, placing one hand gently between her shoulder blades over the wound. He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath; warmth spread out from his hand over her back, easing her trembling and light-headedness. The pain was still there, but dulled as if the injuries were days old instead of less than an hour.

"Thanks," she said, rolling her shoulders to ease the cramp that had formed from tensing her muscles and hunching protectively since Goblin-town.

There was a few seconds silence in their tree. Fili was looking out to the other trees, his eyes locating and zeroing in on each of the other members of the company, his lips moving as he silently counted them. Having accounted for everyone, his gaze dropped to the cliff below them, taking in the long and deadly fall to the valley through the branches below them.

"That's a long drop," he observed neutrally, and then turned his gaze to Lizzy. "Why this tree?"

"The others are going to fall," she said, adjusting herself more comfortably on the high branch, finding herself immensely grateful that she had never suffered from a phobia of heights or falling.

"_What_?" he half yelled, nearly falling out of the tree in shock. "You said they would be fine!"

"They _will_ be fine, the trees are going to fall and they will jump from branch to branch until the entire company is in _this_ tree," she explained patiently, recognising that she hadn't phrased her previous response in the best way possible and had scared him. "Personally I didn't fancy that, I doubt I would have even been able to hold on," she added with a grimace at the thought of swinging from branch to branch when she couldn't even hoist herself up into the tree on her own.

While they were talking, Gandalf was apprehensively looking down to where Bilbo had finally succeeded in removing his little sword from where it was lodged in the skull of a warg. "Elizabeth, tell me you have the key," the Wizard said suddenly, a note of worry in his rumbling voice.

Lizzy nodded, her attention elsewhere. More wargs had just descended to the small clump of trees and Bilbo was climbing for his life while they snapped at his heels.

Gandalf sighed in relief despite the danger of their situation. "You had me worried, Elizabeth."

"You have it?" Fili asked, leaning towards her with hopeful eyes, having been listening to their conversation.

She nodded again. "Picked it up after – you know," she finished, gesturing to her back.

Fili closed his eyes for a brief moment. "_Thank Mahal_," he breathed reverently.

It did not take long for the wargs that had been snapping and jumping at Bilbo's tree to sniff out the trees the rest of the Dwarves were in too. Lizzy had been expecting them to jump up and try to reach them, but the wargs were eerily silent, simply scouting out which trees were occupied and waiting patiently below them.

Ever calm, Gandalf extended his staff towards a moth sitting and preening its wings on a branch, luring it closer to whisper to it and send it fluttering away into the darkness.

Distracted by the behaviour of the wargs, Lizzy didn't notice the approaching Orcs until Fili sucked in a shocked breath from beside her. Following his gaze, she saw Azog astride his snarling white warg, observing the company with a look of cruel satisfaction.

"That's Azog," he said softly, an expression of sheer hatred such as Lizzy had never seen before on his usually smiling and open face.

"Yes," she whispered back, her attention on Thorin several trees over. She could guess how horrible this moment must be for him, discovering without a shadow of doubt that the enemy he believed to have slain was indeed alive.

"He killed my grandfather and my uncle," Fili continued as if to himself, his eyes narrowed viciously at the Pale Orc. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his shaking anger, and then shook his head. "What is he saying?"

"He's saying that Thorin reeks of fear, just like Thrain did," she whispered in reply, remembering Azog's words from the movie.

Fili gave her another sharp look. "You know that, how?" he asked, apparently not having expected a reply to his previous question.

"Story stuff," she told him. Fili looked like he wanted to question her more, but Azog pointed his great mace at Thorin and gave an order to his troops, who instantly bore down upon them.

Scant, breathless seconds later their tree was being shaken and jolted as the creatures leapt terrifyingly high, tearing off branches in their powerful jaws as their claws scraped and scrabbled at the bark. Luckily, the tree they had chosen had numerous branches dotting its trunk so they had been able to climb quite high, several feet out of reach of the warg's hungry maw. The other Dwarves were not so fortunate, several of them yelling in fright as the monsters' jaws snapped just beneath their feet.

Their tree was shaken from side to side with each attack and Lizzy clung desperately to the trunk, each movement sending twinges down her back though it was no longer as painful after Gandalf's healing. Fili's attention was torn between trying to keep his own footing and looking panicked as his brother swayed on the branch he was balanced on, gripping another above his head for balance.

"Kili!" he shouted fearfully just as an almighty creak rent the air and several of the Dwarves cried out, the first of the trees tilting against its roots.

Then the first tree fell, toppling as if in slow motion towards one of its fellows. Lizzy watched with wide eyes as the Dwarves leapt from the branches, nimbly avoiding the wargs below. The second tree was quick to fall in its wake and, following the lead of the ones in the first tree, the others started to jump and swing from the branches too as their tree was uprooted.

Within minutes only two trees were left standing at the edge of the cliff: one occupied by Gandalf, Fili and Lizzy; and the other containing the rest of the company. Going for the greater numbers, the Wargs quickly attacked the other tree. Several of them were batted away with swords and axes, with some of the company being too low to avoid their sharp teeth, but it wasn't long before that tree too was torn from the ground.

Lizzy squeezed the tree trunk harder in anticipation of the impact as the other tree slowly fell towards them. The air was full of yells and grunts as the Dwarves made their leaps and she closed her eyes in fear that some of them might not make it. Her tree jolted sharply upon the impact of its falling comrade, almost shaking her grip loose and making her cry out in pain.

The branch she was precariously balanced on shook beneath her and she cracked open her eyes to see Thorin with his broad chest braced across it, hoisting himself up with his arms until he could swing a leg over for greater support. Tentatively, she released one arm from the death grip she had on the tree and extended it to help him. He took it with a grunt of what might have been thanks and pulled himself up so that he was standing beside her. Once he was steady he released her hand as if it was caustic and she wrapped it around the trunk once more as the tree creaked beneath them.

Fili had caught and straightened Kili as he had jumped. "You picked the right tree," she heard Kili say, his voice barely shaking despite the wargs that were still attacking below.

"Clearly," his brother replied, glancing down at her.

The tree creaked once more, swaying under the combined weight of the whole company. Lizzy swallowed hard with her eyes closed, her forehead braced against the wood of the tree. She was most certainly not looking forward to what was coming.

Just like in Goblin-town, she knew that the company would hopefully get out of this scrape alive, but she was coming to realise that she had no such assurances for herself. She could very well die here: she could lose her grip as the tree fell and plunge down into the valley, or she could be picked off by a warg or Orc in the fight that was coming.

She suppressed a whimper, wondering for the first time what would happen to her if she died in Middle Earth. Would she simply return to that small forest in New Zealand or would she be dead there too?

In the distance she heard Azog's deep, cruel laughter. Something hardened in her heart and she released her terrified hold on the trunk of the tree, turning to face that monster.

They may be trapped up here (_sixteen birds in one fir-tree,_ her mind whispered, paraphrasing the song from the book) and she had no guarantee she would survive until the eagles came, but she would be damned before she died cowering and whimpering like some pathetic damsel in distress.

* * *

The moment Thorin had seen Azog riding confidently into the small clearing of trees astride his white warg had been one of the worst of his long life. In the moonlight the Orc was as pale as the ghost he should have been, sneering up at them in their pathetic perches high above him. He had trailed the metal claw of his prosthetic hand tauntingly over his mount's fur, provoking Thorin with the sight: it appeared that the mauling that should have ended him had only provided him with a new weapon to wield.

His thoughts turned to his regal grandfather, the man he had loved and admired that had been treated with such disrespect in death by this monster; Azog had carved his name onto the severed head and tossed it to his kin. He thought of his aloof yet caring father, whose body had never been recovered, and then his happy, smiling brother who had died in the battle that he should have been too young to attend … Their deaths were unavenged.

He had failed them.

He listened to the Defiler's words with his heart in his throat, understanding the Orcish he spoke only due to his grandfather's lessons. Much like learning Elvish and several of the tongues of men, he had been encouraged to also learn the Black Speech. Several times had this skill saved his life or the lives of his men in battle, being able to understand the commands made to troops and counter effectively.

Azog was saying that his father had reeked of fear … They had never known what had become of his father after that battle. _Mahal above, say that he had not been taken alive,_ Thorin thought desperately since the Defiler had not earned his name without reason.

The Pale Orc ordered the attack and they were instantly besieged by his wargs. Seeing no hope of escape, despair began to take root in Thorin's heart. Not only had they lost the key to Erebor, it appeared that this eve Azog would fulfil his oath to wipe out the line of Durin.

Thorin's thoughts turned to Elizabeth Darrow. In Rivendell she had told him that he succeeded in his quest, that he did indeed become King Under the Mountain once more – but she had not told him anything of his success until _after_ he had threatened to turn the entire company around, previously having coyly said that she would not give him _spoilers_.

A desperate lie perhaps, improvised to ensure that they continued on and came to this spot?

Their argument after escaping Goblin-town had revealed to him that she was not above using her knowledge to twist events for her own ends and apparently it suited her whims to have them die up here, trapped and unable to properly fight like cowards. He felt like a fool - he had been taken in by a pair of beguiling eyes and a pretty smile that hid her malice beneath. To think that he had actually felt protective of her, that he had started to care for her as a member of the company when all the while she was leading him to his death.

But no … it made no sense: there was no gain in it for her. Out of all of them, she had been the one to suffer in Goblin-town and she would die here with them. Worse, even: as a woman she would be kept alive long after the rest of them had been butchered.

Yet she had known this would happen and had made no effort to avoid it – he simply didn't understand her.

There was a terrible creak and the tree he was in started to topple. Instinctively, he leapt towards the next tree as it fell, catching hold of a branch and swinging, only for that tree to topple also.

Since she was already occupying his thoughts, he thought of Miss Darrow as he jumped. She was badly injured after being tortured in Goblin-town, there was no way she could jump from branch to branch like the other Dwarves were. Even at her full health and strength such a feat may well have been beyond her, her slim and womanly body lacking the muscle the rest of the company possessed. He could see no sign of her in the trees around them, had she fallen to her death as the trees were uprooted?

_Why do you care?_ a small voice in the back of his mind whispered.

He made the final jump to the tree on the edge of the cliff as the last one fell and was surprised to find himself helped up onto the branch by Miss Darrow herself. He grunted in thanks, recognising her aid despite how furiously angry he was with her; yet his anger was tinged with the sweetness of relief at seeing her alive, as well as sheer confusion over her actions the past few hours. He straightened up so that he was beside her, one hand holding the branch above him, occupied by Fili, Kili and Bilbo, and the other braced on the trunk just above her head. It appeared that she was terrified and rightly so, turning to hold the tree trunk for dear life once she had helped him up, the tree creaking ominously beneath them.

Down in the clearing he heard Azog's deep, cruel laugh and Miss Darrow suddenly tensed, straightening her spine and releasing the death grip she had on the tree so that she was looking down in the clearing, her gaze hard. She glanced at him and seemed to read something of the fear and doubt that they could survive this in his face. "Don't worry, I promise we will get out of this," she said firmly.

"How?" he breathed back, not seeing a way out – yet if she, with her foreknowledge, said that there was ...

A flaming pine-cone went whizzing past them, startling the wargs beneath the tree and causing some of the dry scrub to catch fire. The fire was clearly magical, spreading quicker and hotter than any normal flame would. "Fili!" Gandalf shouted from above them, dropping a second cone down to his nephew who used it to light one that Bilbo was holding. Soon all the company was throwing the burning cones and roaring challenges down at the fleeing wargs. Thorin savagely bared his teeth at them: if they could drive the rider-less wargs to flee completely it would dramatically even the odds of the fight.

Their brief moment of victory was cut short as the tree creaked once more, and then started to tilt horribly out over the edge of the cliff, straining at the roots. Within seconds the entire company was clinging helplessly to the branches as they dangled out over the frighteningly long drop down into the valley.

Beside him Miss Darrow was gasping for breath, half supported by the main trunk of the tree with her legs hanging. Her face was white with pain and he could see the bloodied material of her shirt stretched taunt against her wounded back. Adjusting himself so that he was practically lying across his own branch, he reached for her and grasped her arm, hoisting her further upwards until she was able to swing a leg over so that she was straddling the tree trunk and no longer in immediate danger of falling.

She looked at him, the blazing firelight a few yards from them dancing in her eyes so that he couldn't read her expression, then her gaze moved past him to Azog. The Pale Orc was watching them from across the flames, a slow and evil smile spreading across his face as the Orc registered Thorin's possessive grip on her arm and the way he had helped her.

Thorin released her and glared hatefully at the vile monster before slowly climbing to his feet, his hand white-knuckled on Orcrist's hilt. He was the King of his people and he would _not_ meet his end by falling from a tree. If he was to die then it would be with a sword in his hand to avenge his family and he would damn well try to take that evil-spawn to the grave with him.

He vaguely heard Miss Darrow shouting something at him, but he was already making the descent down through the flames to face down the Pale Orc.

* * *

Thorin's fight with Azog was horrible to watch. Lizzy held her breath, her heart in her mouth, as his purposeful strides turned to an all out sprint with his sword raised. Azog spread his arms, his smile vicious having lured Thorin into a fight. At the last moment she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the impact of the Pale Orc's steed as it jumped at him. She heard it however, Azog's roar and Thorin's yell of pain. Thorin was usually so stoic and taciturn, sometimes not speaking more than five words together for days on end: to hear him reduced to actually crying out in pain was distressing to say the least.

She opened her eyes to see him stubbornly climbing to his feet as the Orc veered around for another attack, only to be ruthlessly knocked to the ground by Azog's great mace. "We have to help him," she heard Bilbo say from behind her, the Hobbit's eyes wide and fearful.

She glanced around desperately and then noticed Kili dangling from one of the branches a little to her left, his bow and quiver in their case on one shoulder. "Kili, your bow," she choked out, edging towards him and stretching out her hand.

Kili's eyes turned to her, having been watching Thorin in despair. "Can you reach it?" he asked, not being able to hand it to her since he was holding on to his branch with both hands.

"Just," she gasped, pulling the thankfully still strung bow from the quiver, sending several arrows skittering down into the valley below them as she did so. Grabbing a single arrow as well, she awkwardly climbed to her feet, balancing precariously on the tilting trunk.

Her hands fumbled as she nocked the arrow, precious seconds slipping by as she fitted it to the string. Eventually, she raised the bow and drew back her arm. The movement sent pain arcing across her shoulders and she couldn't draw back as far as she normally could.

Thorin was in the warg's jaws, his roar of pain echoing around the valley. Lizzy glared at Azog as she took aim, smug and confident astride his warg.

Suddenly, she remembered Thorin's words to her weeks ago. _You are focusing too much on the target, _he had told her._ You make mistakes because you are focusing on the target and not your actions._

"Thorin, no!" she heard Dwalin say from behind her, but forced herself to ignore her surroundings.

_Ignore Azog for a moment, _she told herself._ Get your stance right otherwise this won't work._

Biting her lip fiercely through the pain, she forced herself to draw her arm back even further, being sure to keep her elbow lowered. With both eyes open, she took aim and fired, her back throbbing sharply at the sudden release of the tension in her muscles.

The arrow flew clear over the Defilers head, but he turned as it went whizzing past. Thorin took advantage of his distraction and landed a strong blow on the snout of the warg. Thorin was reflexively thrown several yards, landing heavily as the warg cringed and yowled in pain.

Bringing his mount back under control, Azog turned in their direction. He saw her with the bow in her hands and snarled, baring his teeth animalistically. Behind her, Bilbo drew his sword and she crouched down to fumble for another arrow. She straightened to fire; all of Azog's attention was on her, he was leaning forward challengingly as he watched her, waiting to see what she would do.

Clenching her teeth as she drew the bow back once more, she took aim at his broad chest and fired under his scrutiny.

Once again, the arrow missed, flying a scant foot to the side of the Orc and landing among his company. Azog laughed low and deep, turning his attention back to Thorin - she was dismissed as not being a threat.

He gave an order in Orcish to one of his troops and Lizzy could guess that it was a request for Thorin's head, who was lying prone and defenceless on the ground.

"Dammit," she muttered, realising that arrows were useless here. She turned to Bilbo, giving him room to pass her on the tree. "Go, I'll get the others up."

"Go?" Bilbo repeated, looking at her in terror with his sword stiff in his hand.

She put her hands on the Hobbit's shoulders. "Bilbo, you can do this," she told him firmly, meeting his eyes. "Thorin told you I have knowledge of the future and believe me, _you can do this_."

Suddenly resolute, Bilbo nodded at her once, took a single deep breath, and then ran off through the flames. Lizzy ducked her head through Kili's bow so that she wouldn't drop it, the string taunt across her back and the stave of the bow across her chest. She then bent down to assist Dwalin, who was hanging from a seriously fraying branch. The gruff Dwarf took her offered hand and used it to steady himself as he hauled himself upwards. She winced in pain at his movements: Gandalf may have dulled the pain from the agony it had previously been, but it was still there.

Once he was on the trunk, Dwalin immediately assisted Fili and Kili to their feet, along with several of the others. Poor Bilbo had killed the Orc going for Thorin's head and was now standing alone before the full might of Azog and his troops, but he was not alone for long – the Dwarves had already started sprinting through the flames, attacking with a loud battle-cry.

Lizzy hesitated, glancing at the Dwarves remaining on the branch and then at Thorin. None of them were in immediate danger of falling (aside from Dori and Ori, but she knew the eagles would catch them) and so she dashed off the creaking tree trunk, one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword, dodging both the patches of fire and the fighting Dwarves and Orcs.

After several tense seconds she managed to reach Thorin, throwing herself down to her knees beside him. He was unconscious and bleeding from several cuts on his face; she dreaded to think what worse injuries might be beneath his armour after being clamped in the wargs powerful jaws and struck with Azog's mace. "Thorin?" she whispered softly, leaning over him and cupping his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard beneath her fingers. She kept an eye out for any approaching threats, determined to protect him if anything came at them.

At the sound of her voice he cracked open his eyes, a gasping breath escaping his lips. His normally sharp and azure eyes were unfocused, blinking up at her as if he couldn't recognise her.

Behind her she heard Dori and Ori's sudden yells of fright as they fell, then the almighty cawing of an eagle as they landed on its back. More eagles descended, tearing at the wargs with their mighty talons and plucking the Dwarves from the midst of the battle.

They were saved.

Lizzy closed her eyes and said a silent, fervent thank you to any gods that might have been listening, from Middle Earth or otherwise, and then bent over the Dwarf King once more. "Thorin," she said, pushing his hair back from where it had stuck to the blood on his face. He had closed his eyes, slipping back into unconsciousness. She doubted he could hear her, but she put her face close to his and spoke to him nevertheless. "Thorin, the eagles are coming."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, now how's about you press that little button down there and leave me a review? :)**

**I'm _so_ sorry I didn't reply to people's reviews last chapter, for some reason the website was consistently not letting me open the reply section despite multiple tries – however each and every review was loved and appreciated!**

**Some of my favourite questions were to Lizzy, 'if given the chance would you return home right this second?' to which she would reply an emphatic _yes_, since she is miserable, hurts all over, on the receiving end of Thorin's anger and knows she is about to endure another battle just after Goblin-town. **

**And to Thorin, whether or not he thinks Lizzy is beautiful … this was a more difficult one to answer, but I'd say that he has always known her to be pretty despite not being a Dwarf, but he has never considered her to be beautiful. Though now that you've got him thinking about it he will allow that her hair, when not looking like a rats nest after weeks in the wilderness, is a rather pretty colour, almost like burnished gold … but stop asking him ridiculous questions about our advisor and go look after the ponies. **

**Not going to have a Middle Earthy themed question this week, instead let's here about you guys – what country are you from?**

**Also, big thank you to the lovely Aluriel/toloveaking for beta-ing this for me and for being a generally awesome person :)**

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask any questions on my tumblr ~_kindle-the-stars_**


	17. The key to a kingdom

'**We are all strangers in a strange land, longing for home, but not quite knowing what or where home is. We glimpse it sometimes in our dreams, or as we turn a corner, and suddenly there is a strange, sweet familiarity that vanishes almost as soon as it comes.' **

_**Madeleine L'Engle, The Rock That Is Higher.**_

* * *

The company flew through the night, spending several long hours on the back of the eagles. Lizzy was flying on her own, having been picked up from Thorin's side by an eagle and then dropped painfully on another's back, heedless of her injuys. She'd had a vague impression of flying through the mountains, with dark lands opening wide beneath them, the land touched here and there by the light of the moon on a hill-side rock or a stream. However it wasn't long before the night had grown too dark for her human eyes to see and so she'd put her head down on the silky smoothness of the eagles feathers and fallen into a fitful doze, lulled by the gentle, rhythmic flapping of the birds wings.

She woke groggily some time before the sunrise, just as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. Her head felt unbelievably heavy, no doubt from dehydration and blood-loss, and her mouth was dry from the cold wind: she licked her lips to wet them and felt the cut on her lower lip reopen beneath her probing tongue, the taste of pennies and rust filling her parched mouth.

She took a quick mental catalogue of her injuries and then quickly realised that it would probably be better to figure out where on her body _didn't_ hurt: her ears seemed to be doing quite well, her hands too, but beyond that she had no doubt that she would be covered in scrapes and bruises on every inch of her.

The worst pain was between her shoulders, but after Gandalf's healing that had receded to a dull, throbbing ache to complement the other stinging cuts and bruises covering her body. The blood on the back of her shirt had dried into a horrible crust that stuck the material to her skin in a way that felt disgusting when she moved, making her dread the moment she would have to take off her shirt to look at the cuts, nevertheless she sat up and looked around her from the eagles back.

It was beautiful: she watched as the dark sky slowly turned a muted, pastel blue with hints of lavender and vivid red in the wispy thin clouds, eventually followed by the sun bursting from below the horizon in a glorious sunrise that bathed the rocky sides of the mountains in soft white light.

The light caught in the eagle's chestnut feathers, slippery beneath her hands, and she had the sudden realisation that she was flying on an _eagle_. Of all the things she had already seen and done in Middle Earth, this was quite possibly the most amazing and fantastical. Releasing her grip on the feathers before her, she tentatively raised her arms until they were outstretched at her sides. The chill wind ran between her fingers, the cares of the past few hours – weeks, even – temporarily blown away by the morning breeze.

A slightly breathless (almost hysterical, after everything she had been through recently) laugh bubbled up and escaped her, and the eagle spoke in response. "You are surprisingly at ease, little fledgling," it said in a rasping, croaky voice. "Your companions cling tightly to the feathers of my brethren."

"I have flown before, but never like this. It's _unbelievable_," she replied, leaning forward once more to lightly hold the feathers as she tried to peer over the side of the great bird and down at the ground far beneath them. They were now passing over rocky hills as the mountains drew to an end, with vast green plains in front of them until the horizon eventually turned white and hazy.

"How does a human-woman fly?" the eagle asked curiously.

"I come from a different world and we have invented machines that allow us to fly miles high above the clouds, we use them to get to different places," she explained briefly, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as the wind tangled in her hair. "This is much nicer though."

_Peter would have loved this_, she thought suddenly, bitter-sweetly remembering how elated her little brother had been to do a sky dive back in New Zealand. Her other brother Jamie, an intimidating and burly rugby player, had a embarrassing phobia of birds and would have been wetting himself with fear if he could see her now. She smiled wanly at the thought, missing them both terribly at the same time.

At her mention of her world a terrible longing had swelled within her – the realisation that these surreal and fantastical moments were memories she would never be able to share with her friends and family hit her once again with all the force of a wrecking ball and sat like a heavy stone in her stomach - if she even _survived_ the rest of the quest that is, her mind added. There had been several moments in the past few hours when she had genuinely feared for her life. She didn't know how this travelling between world thing worked entirely: would she also be dead in her world? What would happen to her body? Her family would think she had simply vanished, they would never know what had happened to her.

"I wonder if I will ever see them again," she breathed to herself, and then dismissed the thought as nonsense, the macabre thoughts of an over-wrought, over-tired mind: Gandalf would make sure nothing happened to her and there was no reason for her not to go home.

"You have travelled far," the eagle observed, shaking her from her melancholy musings. "But I think the wind to carry you home has not yet begun to blow."

Lizzy was not sure how to respond to that, and so she remained silent.

In the new light of the morning she managed to make out Thorin dangling from the mighty and sharp talons of another eagle, still clearly unconscious. Her heart sunk down into her stomach to join the stone-like lump of anxiety that was already making camp there. He had been furious with her when they had left the mountain, looking like he had wanted to simply grab and shake her as he demanded the answers he sought, and she was half afraid at the prospect of talking to him when he woke up.

The other half of her was desperate to apologise and explain things to him, to give him the key that she still had in the pocket of her trousers, and to make sure that he was alright after the fight with Azog.

Lizzy could easily understand his anger – hell, part of her was angry at _herself_: even though she had made what she felt to be the right judgement call, she had _hated_ her role in all of this. After all, she had deliberately hidden things from Thorin and he still didn't really know her motives for doing so, and so she dreaded to think what he thought of her at the moment.

A small part of her wondered why she cared so much, both about him and his opinion of her, and she reluctantly admitted to herself that the haughty and brooding king had worked his way into her affections since leaving Rivendell – of course he was still occasionally a bit of a grumpy bastard and most of their conversations were civil at best, but she had come to respect him nevertheless.

She just hoped that she could earn his forgiveness, that he would still respect her in turn.

Groping into her pocket, she squeezed the key reassuringly in her hand as if it was a lifeline. She _wished_ she'd had time to give it to him before the fight, but he had been so busy shouting at her and she had been so worried about Azog's impending arrival that she stupidly hadn't _thought_ to actually give it to him, even when he was snarling at her for loosing it.

Before them she saw a great spire of rock that she recognised as the Carrock and the eagles started to make their descent in slow, lazy circles. After several long minutes her eagle alighted on the rock and tilted one wing, allowing her to slide down, the movement painfully reminding her that her back still needed tending to. "Thank you for carrying me," Lizzy said politely, unsure of the etiquette in this situation.

"You are welcome," the eagle replied haughtily, looking at her sideways with one great, beady eye. She suddenly felt very small and potentially edible under its scrutiny. "You are very far from your eyrie, little fledgling, but remember that you can also build a new nest instead of simply refurbishing the old one."

She blinked up at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means what I said," the eagle replied, and then launched itself into the air, buffeting her with the gusts from its wings.

Behind her, Gandalf was tending to Thorin as the rest of the company hovered anxiously around him, leaving Lizzy on her own at the back of the group. She knew that Thorin would still be furious with her when he woke and all of a sudden she felt exhausted and utterly drained at the thought of another argument with him, the prospect bringing her almost close to tears. She simply didn't _want_ to fight with him any more, she wanted to _talk_ to him and explain herself. Scraping together what little composure she had left in her severely frayed nerves with great difficulty, she reluctantly steeled herself for the shouting that she knew was coming.

* * *

Thorin's first thoughts upon waking were of Elizabeth Darrow: the last thing he remembered before blacking out was the brief image of red flames dancing in her golden hair, the vague sensation of her bloodied, dirty hands gentle on his face and the faint whisper of her voice. Then he remembered Mr Baggins, how the Hobbit had ran at the Orc that had been about to behead him; an act of stupid bravery that had undoubtedly saved his life – but had Bilbo perished in the attempt?

"The halfling ..." he whispered as his eyes focused on the Wizard bending worriedly over him.

"It's alright, Bilbo is here. He's quite safe," Gandalf said consolingly and Thorin was aided to his feet – _Mahal above,_ he hurt all over, especially around his chest and ribs, some of which were possibly broken.

He quickly took stock of their surroundings: they were no longer at the burning cliff-edge in the mountains, but rather on a tall spire of rock, apparently on the eastern side of the mountains if the dazzling sunrise was anything to go by. He wondered briefly how they had gotten there and how long he had been unconscious for, but answered his own question when he saw the giant eagles wheeling away into the sky – Miss Darrow's whispered words back in the burning glen that the eagles were coming suddenly made more sense.

Impatiently, he shook off the helping hands and sought Mr Baggins with his gaze.

"_You_, what were you doing? You almost got yourself killed," he snarled, finding his balance without the assistance of the others. Bilbo had been half smiling, apparently pleased to see him alive, but at his words the Hobbit's face abruptly fell. "Did I not say that you would be a burden, that you would not survive in the wild, that you had no place among us ..."

He looked at the Hobbit, who was now staring at the ground with an expression that was both miserable and annoyed. Thorin had not forgotten what Mr Baggins had said about his own home and the realisation that he had given it up to help them to recover theirs, when in reality there was no reason why he should have done since they were unacquainted before the entire company had arrived on his doorstep.

Truly, he had underestimated this soft little man: there was a core of steel worthy of any Dwarf beneath his mild Hobbit exterior. Mr Baggins had saved him at great risk to himself, and Thorin owed him his life and his thanks.

"I have never been so wrong in all my life," he finished, stepping forwards and pulling the shocked Hobbit briefly to his body in a sincere demonstration of his thanks, mindful of his own injuries and not holding him too tightly. Behind him, he heard several pleased noises from the company, who apparently approved of this gesture of appreciation and friendship. "I am sorry I doubted you," he said seriously to Bilbo as he pulled away, genuinely apologetic: he was not so full of pride that he could not admit when he had been wrong, recognising the harshness of his actions towards the Hobbit.

"No, I would have doubted me too," Bilbo said hastily, quick to forgive him. "I'm not a hero, or a warrior … not even a burglar," he added wryly to the Wizard, making Thorin smile. No, he may not have been any of those things – but somehow he was exactly what this company had needed.

His eyes slowly shifted over the Hobbit's shoulder and his lips parted in surprise. There, far on the horizon, was the Lonely Mountain. It was distant and beautiful in the morning sunlight, standing tall and bold on the face of the landscape.

"Is that … what I think it is?" he heard Bilbo ask, and the rest of the company stepped forward to join him in looking out into the distance.

"Erebor," Gandalf confirmed, the name of his kingdom ringing in the air. "The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great Dwarf Kingdom's of Middle Earth."

"Our home," Thorin breathed, basking in the strange, sweet familiarity he felt at the sight of the mountain, all that he had strived towards for years and it was now within his sight.

Then came the sudden, chilling remembrance that they lost the key, their only way into the mountain, and the joyful feeling turned to ash inside him. Everything he had ever wanted, his home, his kingdom, the life his people deserved and the treasure of their ancestors, was now forever beyond his reach.

"A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain," Oin said, pointing as a thrush went fluttering past the company. Thorin took it as a bad omen: birds were returning to the mountain, but they was not the birds that heralded the renewal of their kingdom. "It is just as the portents foretold."

"There is little use in portents and prophecy's now," Thorin said, his voice dull and deep with despair in the quiet morning. "Without the key there is no way into the mountain, I fear this is as far as our quest goes."

This declaration was met by the company's silence, only to be broken by a meek and feminine voice behind them.

"Thorin," Miss Darrow said simply, her voice cracking around his name. He turned to look at her: she had been hanging back as the company had gazed eastwards, separating herself from the group and fiddling with something in her hands. She was a dishevelled mess, her normally tied-up hair hanging in a dark and matted tangle around her still bloodied, dirt streaked face. The cut on her lower lip had reopened, staining her mouth a lurid, blood red.

"Don't you speak one word to me," he ordered with quiet menace, his eyes narrowed fiercely at her.

She swallowed, looking both frightened and determined. "I'm _sorry_. You have to understand, I was doing what I thought to be right -"

"_Understand?" _he interjected scathingly. "You are meant to be our _advisor_ but thus far you have caused nothing but trouble. Had you told me about the Goblins we could have taken another route, hidden the key, _anything_," he said, speaking loudly over her as she opened her mouth to speak once more. He stepped forwards so that he was right in front of her and she looked up into his face, her eyes bright and clear in the sunshine, her head barely tilted due to their similar heights. The company hung back behind him as he confronted her, wordlessly listening to their interaction, not wanting to interfere. "But now thanks to your actions Erebor is lost to us forever."

"Thorin -"

"I will not be interrupted, hear me in silence," he snapped, not wishing to be party to her wide-eyed entreaties or hollow apologies. In fact, he wanted her gone from his sight before he decided to take revenge for the loss of his home upon her, regardless of the fact that she was a woman. Her presence had bought nothing but turmoil and he could not wait to be rid of her. "Elizabeth Darrow, I cast you out of this company."

"What?" she gasped with her lips parting, seemingly taken aback.

"Return to your world," he ordered sourly, stalking past her and putting his back to both her and the Lonely Mountain in the distance, having no desire to look upon either of them at that particular moment. "Our quest is over and you have no further purpose or place here."

"_Thorin_," she said in a beseeching and desperate voice from behind him, sounding very close to tears. He turned around, intending to tell her to _be silent_ once and for all – and there, outstretched in her filthy hand, was the key to Erebor.

Quite possibly for the first time in his long life, Thorin was shocked into silence. She was simply staring at him, her impossibly huge eyes stark and filling with tears as her outstretched hand visibly trembled.

Slowly, disbelieving the evidence of his own eyes, he reached out and took the key from her, their fingers just brushing.

As he stared down at the key to his kingdom, so solid and _real_ in his hands, she turned around and shakily walked to the very edge of the great spire of rock, passing through the startled and silent members of the company, pausing only to take the bow from around her shoulders and hand it to Kili as she past him.

Thorin lifted his stunned gaze up from the key to watch her as she folded herself down on the ground, sitting alone with her back to them all. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and lowered her head so that she was curled into a protective ball, the bright sunrise highlighting the dark brown stain of dried blood that spread nearly to her lower back beneath the rips in her shirt as she hunched over.

Clenching the key tightly in his fist, he listened with a very peculiar feeling in his stomach as she promptly started to quietly sob her heart out with Erebor silhouetted in the distance before her.

* * *

**Pretty short chapter – but hey, quick update, right?**

**This was shorter than I intended since I had planned to go on to show their coming conversation after Lizzy's break-down, but this felt like a very natural stopping point and had I followed my original plan the chapter would have been about 8000 words!**

**So yes, their conversation is coming, and I think we will have some Bifur pov too :)**

**And to those who'd said they wanted a carrock kiss when Thorin woke up … sorry folks, this was a scene I had planned out from the start! :p **

**Keep those reviews coming … and for this weeks question, favourite quote? Can be Tolkien or otherwise, I just love quotes (if you couldn't tell from the chapter quotes) and always like hearing new ones. **

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions about the story or characters on my tumblr _~kindle-the-stars_**


	18. Urs-tarag barufzurk

_"__**Go on, go on**_

___**Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved **_

___**All tongues to talk their bitterest**__**."**_

**William Shakespeare,**_** A Winter's Tale**_

* * *

Unsurprisingly, out of all the company Bifur was the first to approach her. He allowed her several minutes of solitude to cry before going to the cliff edge to sit in silence beside her, looking out towards the mountain while he waited for her to compose herself. He enjoyed the quiet, it reminded him of the peacefulness of whittling wood in his workshop back home in Ered Luin: he liked that the two of them could just sit in companionable silence sometimes, or that they could use a few words in the secret and special hand language that was theirs alone.

He knew that he was not entirely well, he had never been the same after the battle in which he had gotten the axe embedded in his forehead. He was occasionally prone to fits of feisty energy that came out of nowhere, or sometimes he would walk in silence for days on end, and of course there was the endless frustration of trying to speak to Lizzy or Mr Baggins in the Common Tongue and nothing but Khuzdul coming out despite his best efforts. His thoughts would sometimes become muddled and often he would go to do a job around the camp only to find he had already done it and apparently forgotten, yet he often found himself to be feeling more lucid whenever he was around his Lizzy, as if she calmed his disturbed mind.

Behind him the company had dissolved into furious, whispered conversations: Thorin had stalked to the opposite side of the rock spire Lizzy was sitting on and was turning the key to Erebor over and over in his hands as he looked pensively back towards the Misty Mountains, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to their crying advisor, whereas Fili and Kili were explaining what they knew of her knowledge to the rest of the group, the vows to silence they had apparently taken now redundant due to Thorin's actions.

Bifur had listened in silence for a few minutes, taking in the varied opinions of the rest of the group. They were fairly divided, with Balin, Dwalin and Dori being her fiercest opponents, whereas most of the rest of the company had a staunch loyalty to the girl who had forged a place amongst them and were possibly willing to forgive her providing everything was explained properly – especially since she had saved the key from the Goblins, thus allowing their quest to continue.

Of course he had been as surprised as any of them to learn that she knew what would happen on their quest and had felt mild reproach for her not telling them what dangers they could expect, but he had already spent several long hours on the back of an eagle organising his thoughts and he had decided that it didn't matter since it didn't change who she was as a person. He'd also remembered her sadness upon their approach to the mountain from Rivendell, no doubt struggling under the burden of her knowledge. Thorin may be infuriated that she hadn't spoken up, but Bifur felt that he knew Lizzy well enough to trust that she had a good reason for not doing so.

Bifur loved his king deeply and would follow Thorin to the ends of the earth, but he could not say that he approved of the manner in which he treated their advisor, sometimes ignoring her for days on end, sometimes snapping and snarling at her and other times silently following her with his eyes and a deep crease in his forehead.

Thorin had been wrong to say that she had no place here, Bofur and Bombur loved her as he did and would gladly make room for her in their small family. Ever since Lizzy had fallen asleep on his shoulder several nights ago like a little Dwarfling, prompting him and Bombur to carry her gently to her bedroll, the three of them had been discussing the implications of officially adopting her into their family. The clan might protest at first but when they realised how strong she could be and what a treasure she was he knew that they would accept her just as the rest of the company had.

Yes, Lizzy was his family and he felt a deep protectiveness and affection for her, as if she were his daughter or niece, too young to be a sister.

She did have a place here and Bifur had decided that now was the time to make sure that she knew it.

* * *

Lizzy was crying her eyes out with great, wrenching sobs that hurt every time they were torn from her body, trapped in the midst of a full on break down. She cried over everything: she cried over her family; over Fili and Kili and the terrible doubt she felt daily that she might not be able to save them; she cried over Thorin and his anger and the possibility that the rest of the company might shun her; she cried because in the past few hours she had been more scared then she had ever been in her entire life and she cried because she was alive.

Eventually she calmed down enough to raise her head and was unsurprised to see Bifur sitting silently beside her, looking serenely out towards the Lonely Mountain.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, her voice husky and breaking as she wiped her eyes, noticing her hand came away smudged with dirt and blood.

_No, _Bifur signed, and then added a _how are you?_ with sad, worried eyes that were almost all that could be seen of his face beneath his wild hair and beard.

"Not good, really _really_ not good," she replied honestly, starting to cry all over again simply because a member of the company didn't seem to hate her after everything she had done. "I've completely pissed off Thorin and now everyone in the company is going to think I'm some kind of _b-bitch_ who tried to lead them to their deaths and no one is ever going to trust me again and I _h_-_hurt_ all over and I want to go _h_-_home_."

Bifur touched her shoulder lightly as she fought back the tears, a gentle and consoling gesture. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she hiccuped once she had a better handle on her roiling emotions,the flood of tears stemmed for now.

"Zu baruf, zu barufinh," he said simply in Khuzdul.

"Huh?" Lizzy said, blinking stupidly at him. Her eyes felt very gritty after crying for so long.

"He says that you are his family," a thick brogued voice said from behind her and she turned to see Oin hovering awkwardly with his small bag of medical herbs in his hands along with his sadly damaged ear-trumpet.

"I am?" she said, nonplussed.

"Come on lass, let's see to your back," Oin said, not replying to her previous question. He knelt down behind her and examined the rips in the back of her shirt before awkwardly clearing his throat and asking her to remove it.

Lizzy glanced quickly over her shoulder, noticing that the company were sorting through the few bags they were able to salvage from Goblin-town to see what supplies they had and were not paying attention to them. Deciding not to worry overly much about the lack of privacy, she tentatively tried to pull the material up. It only moved a few inches before it stuck to the skin around her cuts, making her wince in pain as it tugged at them.

"I was afraid of this," Oin sighed, noticing her problem. "Bifur, bring as much of the water as can be spared."

"And my bag too, if you don't mind," Lizzy added and Bifur grunted his understanding and climbed to his feet.

He was back within moments and Oin used the water to soak the back of her shirt. It took several long minutes and most of the water left in their bottles but he was eventually able to tease the material away from her skin and Lizzy was able to remove it. She held the ruined shirt to her chest with her back still to the rest of the company as he worked on cleaning the cuts and washing the dried blood from her skin, thankful that they were between her shoulder blades and that she didn't have to take off her bra too. Luckily none of the cuts were big enough to need stitches, but Lizzy still got Oin to use the disinfectant wipes she had in the small first aid kit at the very bottom of her pack before bandaging her back the best he could with their meagre supplies.

"Bifur, what did you mean when you said I was family?" she asked eventually while the other Dwarf worked on her back.

"Zu Urs-tarâg barufzurk," Bifur said and Oin responded sharply in Khuzdul. The two of them had a quick conversation that Lizzy didn't understand a single word of: Oin seemed surprised by what was being said, but Bifur was responding with firm determination.

Eventually they stopped and looked back at her; she stared at them in bewilderment, wondering what had been said. Oin cleared his throat once more. "He says that you are one of the Firebeard clan."

She gave them a questioning look, still not understanding. Bifur pulled one of the silver clasps from his hair and handed it to her. She turned it over in her fingers: there was a single, large rune in the centre and minuscule engraved runes around the top and bottom that she couldn't decipher. She spent a few seconds marvelling over the exquisite detail of the Dwarvern work before looking back up at them, still no closer to comprehension.

"He is offering you a place in his family, should you choose to accept it," Oin told her, reading her confused look. "The Brothers Ur would become your kin. It wouldn't be official until it was sanctified by a clan elder, but it would mean that you would be allowed to wear the Firebeard crest and would be welcome in any Dwarves halls as a member of Urs-tarâg barufzurk." He tugged on the end of his beard, apparently uncomfortable with this offer that was being made. "It is a very great honour, lass. I do not believe it has ever been done for a human before."

"I … _really_?" she asked, utterly blown away by this gesture, seeing it as a sign of the Brothers Ur's continued affection for her despite her actions – embarrassingly, she almost felt like welling up again but fiercely wrestled her emotions down. She hadn't realised just how high she was in their esteem, though looking back it made sense: aside from Fili and Kili the three of them were the ones she spent the most time with and were closest too.

Bifur said another string of words in Khuzdul and Oin translated. "He said even if you do not want to be part of the clan he still considers you to be his family."

"No, I _do_, I just … thank you," she finished lamely, genuinely touched but still not entirely sure what being in a Dwarf clan entailed exactly.

Bifur looked more pleased than she had ever seen him, his pleasure quelling any doubts she may have had. His hands fluttered in gestures she didn't recognise as he took the bead back from her hand and quickly started plaiting a small section of her hair just behind her ear with some difficulty due to the tangles and matted blood. Allowing him to do so, Lizzy sat with a bemused smile as she received her first Dwarvern braid, feeling far more optimistic about the rest of the company's possible reactions to her knowledge than she had a few minutes ago.

* * *

Thorin found himself turning the key to Erebor over and over between his fingers as he stood to one side of the company, his gaze fixed on their advisor. She had thankfully stopped weeping but had yet to rejoin the company. Instead she was talking to Bifur and being tended to by Oin at the far end of the Carrock, as Gandalf had called the great pinnacle of rock that they were on. His eyes had narrowed at her when she had removed her shirt, holding it modestly to her chest as she sat facing away from them, the best privacy she could get all the way up here. She had pulled her long, tangled hair over one narrow shoulder, baring her back for Oin to tend to her.

As the dried blood was washed away it revealed the pale white skin that contrasted to the tan on her arms and face, mottled here and there with small bruises that had no doubt been caused by pinching Goblin claws. Nine parallel cuts ran close together diagonally between her shoulder blades, varying in size. The ones on the outside were barely an inch long, whereas the longest one in the middle would have been the same length as his hand were he to lay it against her skin.

For the first time he took in the graceful lines of her body, bared almost completely before him. All she had covering her torso was a thin, dark green strip of some kind of breast-band that wrapped around the middle of her back with straps extending up over her shoulders. His eyes followed the ghostly indents of her spine all the way down to the dip of her lower back, just above the line of her trousers. Her hips didn't flare, as most Dwarf women's did, but rather curved gently from her narrow waist. She was too thin, he thought since she hadn't been eating properly since leaving Rivendell.

"Beautiful, don't you think?" Fili said suddenly from beside him.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked sharply, thinking that he had been caught staring at her half-unclothed.

Fili had one hand shading his eyes from the early morning sun and was gazing out towards the Lonely Mountain. He knew that his nephew had never seen the sight before, this quest being his first venture beyond the Misty Mountains. "I never imagined it to be so beautiful, from the stories of the desolation I only ever imagined ruin and destruction, but it looks so … peaceful."

"Indeed," Thorin agreed, now making sure to keep his gaze as far away from their advisor as possible. He felt foolish for having looked at her when she was being treated, a violation of the little privacy she had up here.

There was a short silence between them and then Fili spoke again, his voice unusually serious. "You should not be so angry with her."

He felt a familiar twinge of annoyance, the same vexation he had felt after the troll incident that Miss Darrow had completely charmed his nephews into believing she could do no wrong. "She endangered the lives of the entire company," he reminded him, while wondering at the same time if he had overreacted _slightly_ in his confrontation with her.

"No, she didn't," Fili countered, keeping his tone neutral.

Thorin glanced at him, he was still looking out towards the mountain. "She knew that we were going to be captured and yet failed to speak up, that makes her culpable in my eyes," he said. This point was irrefutable despite the few redeeming things she had done in the past few hours.

Lowering his gaze to the ground, Fili kicked a small stone, sending it skittering towards the edge of the drop. "She picked up the key even after she had been tortured."

"It is irrelevant," Thorin answered too quickly, clenching the key in his fist. _It wasn't. _

"Is it?" Fili questioned, recognising the hesitation in his voice.

Thorin was silent.

The fact that they still had the key changed everything, it meant that their journey would continue. Indeed, if her actions were intended to ensure that they followed the story that she knew, it meant that they were still on track for their quest to be a success and for him to become King Under the Mountain.

Which also meant that his nephews deaths were still a possibility, and if he was going to prevent it he desperately needed Miss Darrow's assistance.

Fili stooped to pick up another stone, bouncing it in his hand as he straightened, testing its weight. "She also told the Great Goblin to -" he drew his arm back, threw the stone off the Carrock and then turned to him with a half smile. "- well, she used some surprisingly unladylike language."

"A stupid thing to say, she provoked them," he argued automatically, remembering his surprise at her words before the whip had fallen. Stupid yes, but it had also been very gutsy and defiant.

"She stood up for you, said that you were ten times the king he was and she didn't tell them one _single_ thing even after being whipped," Fili pointed out firmly, determined to defend her.

"It does not change the risk she took."

"Yet she _knew_ that we would all be fine," he countered stubbornly. He then sighed, speaking in a lower, even more serious voice. "We all knew that Goblins were a risk on the mountain pass. Before you judge her too harshly, remember that _you_ were the one to lead us over the mountain and that we would have been caught regardless as to whether or not she was with us. She is not the only one who is culpable here."

Thorin had not considered this.

"Watch your tone, Fili," he growled in acute displeasure.

"You don't like that I speak the truth," he said mildly and Thorin wondered when he had grown up so much: the last time he'd had to tell his nephew to watch his tone Fili had been a small and filthy Dwarfling, stubbornly refusing to have a bath while Thorin was looking after them for his sister. Now Fili continued, his matured voice compelling him to understand his point of view. "You know as well as I do that Lizzy has a heart of gold. She would not have done what she did unless she had a good reason."

He had already come to the conclusion that she had not allowed them to be captured for any malicious reasons, despite his uncharitable thoughts towards her during the confrontation with the wargs and Orcs. "Were she willing to share the specifics of those reasons then I might be more willing to forgive her," he said in a low grumble.

"You haven't asked her."

"Yes, I have."

"No, you told her off. You didn't really give her a chance to explain or to give you the key" Fili told him.

The two of them were distracted from their conversation by Bifur and Oin returning to the group. Behind them, Miss Darrow (still half unclothed) was rummaging in her pack; she pulled out her other shirt, the black one she had been wearing when they had first met. Fili immediately averted his eyes but Thorin watched as she straightened and started to don the shirt, seemingly having some difficulty with her freshly bandaged wound.

Fili noticed the line of his gaze once more and sighed faintly once more. "Just go and talk to her, she might surprise you."

* * *

Lizzy pulled her sadly faded Pink Floyd t-shirt over her head with difficulty, her movements tugging at the cuts on her back through their new bandage. She was grateful that she had something else to wear, not having relished the thought of putting the ripped, blood-encrusted shirt back on before it had been thoroughly scrubbed, though she doubted the stains would ever come out now.

She still had her head caught in the material when she heard a familiar, deep voice behind her. "Do you know the worst crime a person can commit?"

There was a pause as she forced her head through the hole before answering. "Murder?" she hazarded as a guess, still pulling the shirt down to cover her body.

"Betrayal," the gravelly voice said.

"I did not betray you, Thorin." She finished tugging the shirt down and turned around to face him, feeling very tense and jittery at the prospect of a conversation with him. "Alright, let's hear it. Tell me off again," she said resignedly, wondering if she could take any more shouting so soon after her break-down.

He surprised her by touching her hair, taking the new braid that dangled just behind her ear between his fingers and flicking metal bead with his thumb. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at her.

"Bifur gave it to me," she explained, answering his wordless query.

"You have been adopted into the Urs-tarâg barufzurk?" he surmised, looking mildly stunned by this revelation.

"The Firebeard clan," Lizzy said, since the words he had said in Khuzdul were the same as the ones uttered by Bifur and she assumed it was the name of the clan in their language. Thorin looked troubled, a deep crease between his brows. "Do you … mind?" she asked tentatively, hoping she hadn't done something to piss him off further.

He released the bead, which fell back against her hair. "What's done is done, though I might have counselled against it."

There was a brief silence between them. Thorin drew himself up to his full height and stuck his thumbs into his belt, cutting a very imposing and kingly figure in the morning light despite the grazes and dirt on his face. Lizzy found herself annoyed that he could still appear regal and handsome despite his dishevelled state but quickly squashed the thought to focus on him instead, waiting for him to speak.

"Why did you allow us to be captured, Miss Darrow?" he asked eventually, keeping a tight reign of control on his voice as he looked imperiously down his nose at her.

Recognising that this was him trying to ask nicely, she responded as forthcomingly as she could. "Look, I can't tell you everything, but I _can_ tell you that when we were down there Bilbo found a very important object. It is important to both the success of this quest and to the fate of Middle Earth," she said, telling him as much as she could while still being as vague as possible since Thorin was not supposed to know about the ring yet. "He also met someone down there, someone whose actions, along with this object, are also very, _very_ important a few years down the line."

"You deemed this object and this person to be more important than the lives of my company," Thorin said. It was not a question, she had already made that answer clear with her actions.

She gave him a wan smile. "There are only fifteen of us, sixteen if you include Gandalf. But the things that happen in the future because of this object … well, it saves the lives of thousands, more even. It _had_ to happen, despite the risk to us." Thorin still didn't look convinced, and so she added, "When you're in battle surely you must have made a decision that meant some men died so that others could live?"

He scowled. "In battle, yes, in the heat of the moment when I had no other choice – not an unfeelingly calculated decision to sacrifice another that I made in cold blood, especially those I consider to be friends and family."

"Well, as it is, I didn't _sacrifice_ anyone and we all got out of there just fine," she pointed out.

"I wouldn't say that," he said, tilting his head towards her in a gesture to her injuries – Lizzy knew she must look a mess, absolutely covered in blood and dirt, whereas the most of the rest of the company seemed barely dusty.

"I'll be fine," she said, shrugging off her injuries – and then decided not to do that again, since shrugging rather hurt her back. She looked at the Dwarf King before her, noticing the visible cuts on his face, rips in his tunic and dents in his armour once more. "What about you? You were beaten up pretty badly."

Thorin gave her a _look_.

"I mean you were hurt, you weren't beaten up _that_ badly," she back-tracked, realising she had offended him with her choice of words. "Besides, it was hardly a fair fight. You were exhausted from the Giants and Goblin-town and Azog was -"

"Miss Darrow."

"Yes?" she said, grateful for his interruption for once since she was pretty sure she had been babbling and possibly digging herself even further into her grave.

"Be silent," he ordered.

"Right."

There was another long silence and Lizzy was loathe to break it, having basically just been told to shut up. Thorin's bright blue eyes were studying her and she dropped her own gaze down to his chest, feeling tense and nervous under his scrutiny. She had the impression that her final judgement was coming.

"I … recognise that our capture was not your fault," Thorin said eventually and she breathed a sigh of relief as the tension surrounding them broke. "Despite the fact that you have not told me everything, I … _understand_ that you were acting in a way that you thought right based on your knowledge and that you mean this company no harm."

She was about to speak, but he gave her a stern look and continued. "_However_, I want to impress upon you the seriousness of the risk that you took."

"But I knew you would all come out of there alive," she reiterated, still grateful that he had acquitted her of blame.

He shook his head. "No, the risk you took for _yourself_," he clarified. "You have said in the past that Goblins do not exist in your world, do you know what they would have done to you had Gandalf not arrived in time?"

She shuddered. "I can imagine."

"No, you cannot," he said, his voice bleak. "They would have used your body in every heinous way imaginable, keeping you alive long enough to enjoy their sport. Once you had inevitably died a painful death from your wounds they would have stripped your flesh and gnawed on your bones."

"Alright, I get it," she said quickly, wanting him to stop talking about such horrible things.

"Do you?" he asked, studying her face to see if his message had gotten across. He nodded once, apparently satisfied by what he read in her. "As a member of this company, you will not take such a risk again."

Lizzy's eyes flicked up to his, a cautious hope flaring inside her. "I was under the impression that I had been kicked out of your precious company."

Thorin's gaze moved past her, looking out at Erebor on the horizon. "I spoke in anger," he said slowly to the distant mountain, his voice deep and resonant. "I … do not wish you to go."

He suddenly looked back at her, piercing her with the depths of his azure eyes. "In fact I would go as far as to say that I need you to stay," he added, serious and earnest. "I cannot protect Fili and Kili if I do not know what I am protecting them from."

"I will stay," she said, smiling softly at him – then her tone abruptly turned business-like. "But you have to understand that I am not out to sabotage you or this quest, we are _going_ to run into more trouble on the road and I am _going_ to let most of those things happen."

He looked confused once more, scowling at her. "Why? Why not change these things for the better?"

"You don't _get_ it," Lizzy said in mild exasperation, wondering how best to explain. "I know what's happening on this journey and as it is we will reach the mountain just fine – well, a few scrapes here and there," she amended. "But if I were to change even _one_ thing then we might not make it. It's like a ripple effect – we turn left instead of right and then _boom_, the entire story is different and then I won't be able to anticipate events anymore," she said, gesturing wildly with her hands. "And then what use would I be to you?"

"I see ..." he said slowly, digesting her words. "As long as the quest plays out in the way you anticipate that it will then you know how to save Fili and Kili."

"Pretty much," she hedged, since she didn't actually know how they died, only that it was in the Battle of the Five Armies.

It also didn't help that they had now come to the end of the first movie – when she had come here the other two films had yet to be released and the first one had finished at the Carrock. Thus far, the events of the quest had deviated between the two, but considering how much some things varied from the book, she had the nasty suspicion that there would be several surprises in store for them that she had no way of anticipating.

_Bloody Peter Jackson, making things more dangerous for dramatic effect,_ she thought bitterly.

"We have never tried to be friends, have we Miss Darrow?" Thorin said after several minutes of silence on both their parts, both of them lost in thought as they gazed out at the mountain.

She looked questioningly at him, roused from her musings, yet she didn't speak, wondering where he was going with this.

"You are friends with almost every single member of this company, you have even now been adopted into the Urs-tarâg barufzurk and the Ur family," he added, looking at her once more. "Yet we are not close, nor have we ever been."

"No," she agreed, remembering how the offer of friendship she had made to him in Rivendell a few weeks ago had been rejected in favour of being allies.

"I believe there would be less conflict if there was a measure of trust between us," he finished and she recognised this as him offering an olive branch in recompense of his actions towards her without having to unbend his pride enough to actually apologise – _bloody stubborn Dwarves_, she thought with a smile.

"You don't trust me?" she asked, still smiling. No, they weren't friends but after their conversation it felt like a barrier had dropped between them, possibly opening the door for a potential friendship to grow.

Thorin frowned at her smile, probably not understanding why she was amused. "I trust that you have good intentions, I do not trust that you know what you're doing," he said before turning and walking away, effectively putting an end to their conversation.

_Well, that makes two of us then,_ Lizzy thought to herself, knowing that from this moment on she would only have her memories of the book to guide them.

* * *

**Big thank you to the lovely Aluriel for proofing again for me.**

**Keep those reviews coming, I love hearing what you think of the story and their relationship :)**

**For today's question … in your headcanons, does Thorin have any tattoos? My favourite answers might actually make it into the story when we finally have shirtless Thorin :p**

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions about the story or characters on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars**


	19. Duty is deathless

"_**Love is a better teacher than duty."**_

**Albert Einstein**

* * *

Thorin was silent as they made the descent from the Carrock. His mind was in turmoil, with almost every thought centred around their advisor, a thought process that was becoming far too common in the aftermath of the company running into trouble. He was mulling over the political implications of Miss Darrow being adopted into the Urs-tarâg barufzurk, a frankly unheard of thing for a human. He did not believe that such a thing had ever been done in the entire history of the clans and doubted that she understood the full implications of her acceptance.

When he had rejoined the company after speaking with her they had all been arguing among themselves. Oin had told them about Bifur's offer and reactions had been varied. The Brother's Ur were adamant that they had made the right decision regardless of propriety and Ori had boldly stated that he had no problem with it before quailing under his brothers angry glare. Fili and Kili had seemed bewildered by Balin's uncharacteristic scowl and the white-knuckled grip Dwalin had on his axe, too young to fully comprehend the problem. Meanwhile, Bilbo was following the conversation with a crumpled frown of confusion.

"Enough," he'd said loudly as he approached them, making them all fall quiet and give him their full attention. "Such an offer made cannot be honourably retracted without reason even if the Ur family wanted too, unless the clan elder refuses to sanctify the adoption," he said with a nod towards Bifur, Bombur and Bofur, silently telling them that he would not officially contest their offer as King, as he could potentially have done.

Balin had looked like he was about to speak up, but Thorin sent him a look and spoke over him before he could do so. "I suggest you all make your peace with this," he said, staring sternly at all of the company.

Satisfied that none of them would now speak out against her, he had gestured to the large steps down from the Carrock. "Come, we're making the descent."

The situation was not as bad as it could have been, he thought to himself as they walked, their descent tricky due to the steps being made for someone far taller than Dwarves with even Gandalf struggling occasionally. The Firebeards were a reasonably small clan, with few halls of their own, a tribe largely scattered across the Dwarvern realms. It was certainly preferable that she be adopted there as opposed to Fili and Kili rashly making her such an offer to join the Longbeard clan and, by default of their heritage, the ruling House of Durin. Had they done so she would have lawfully become his niece. The thought turned his stomach.

She was walking behind him, navigating the large steps with difficulty, and he couldn't help but listen to her conversation with Bofur and Bombur, who was carrying her bag for her.

"You said yes," Bofur said, sounding very pleased.

"Of course," she said lightly, half stumbling down a slightly worn step. "Thank you for making me the offer."

"Ah well, Bifur isn't the only one to have taken a shine to you, lass," he said and Thorin could practically hear the smile in Bofur's voice. "Are you feeling better? You were a little distraught earlier," he added with his usual blunt honesty.

Distraught was perhaps an understatement. He believed that on the Carrock they had witnessed the climax of several weeks stress and tension on her part, culminating in a complete melt-down brought on by him shouting at her. The reason for her sombre mood and lack of appetite after leaving Rivendell had suddenly become clear to him: looking back, he realised that she had been worried about crossing the mountains.

He assumed that she nodded in response since she didn't otherwise acknowledge Bofur's question. "How's your arm?" she asked Bombur quietly, who had hurt it during their escape from Goblin-town.

"I'll be fine, lass," he said, huffing and puffing.

"So how does it work exactly?" Bofur asked merrily. "You knowing the future," he added when she hummed questioningly in response.

"There is a book in my world that tells all about this quest. It was my favourite story growing up," she replied. Thorin wondered what it was about their journey that had appealed to her so, unable to imagine her as a child. From the little he knew of human women from his time working as a travelling blacksmith, young girls liked stories of Elves, magic and princes; not trolls, Goblins and Dragons.

"And how much do you know?"

"A lot," she dead-panned in response.

"Do you know what I'm going to say next?" Bofur asked, apparently not taking this entirely seriously.

Miss Darrow was silent for a moment. "You're going to say 'how did you know that?'"

"And how – nice try," Bofur laughed and Thorin's mouth almost quirked in response.

"But to answer your question, I don't really know what people will say," she told them. "I know the places we will go, the route we will take, the people we meet. Things like that."

"How rich we will become?"

"Well there is that too," she added airily.

Thorin scowled at her blasé tone, increasing his pace so that he could no longer hear her. Fili and Kili's lives were resting on her shoulders and after their previous conversation he found himself doubting that she truly knew what she was doing. In Rivendell she had said that she '_hoped'_ the could save them and now just a short while ago she had said '_pretty much_' when he had speculated that she would be able to save them so long as the story she knew remained the same. He found her lack of confidence in herself disturbing.

He also started to realise just how little she had told him about what they were to expect: he had known since Rivendell that she had knowledge of the future but somehow it hadn't occurred to him that she knew which roads they would take, especially since they were now on paths unknown to him. They were a good deal further north than he had planned, having intended to take the High Pass over the mountains and travel through Mirkwood via the Old Forest Road; now he was not entirely sure how they would proceed.

He didn't like that his whole quest was mapped out, regardless of the mostly successful outcome. It made him wonder if his decisions were even his own if they had already been made by some other-worldly literary counterpart. He suddenly felt as if he had no control over his journey, as if the entire quest was beginning to slip from his control.

They eventually reached the base of the Carrock and were confronted by a bright, clear river with a shallow and pebbly ford barring their path, leading to flat and grassy lands beyond.

Miss Darrow instantly turned to him, her expression eager. "Can we stop? We can stop, right?" she begged.

"We should press on," he replied with a scowl at the river, wondering how best to broach the ford. "We are still close to the mountains, I fear it will not take long for Azog to find our trail."

She was shaking her head adamantly. "No, we're fine," she assured him confidently. "Please? I am _desperate_ for a bath."

This much was true, when she'd had her back tended to she had made some effort to clean her face with the scant water they'd had left, but her efforts had simply left her with slightly faded and smudged dirt streaks. "We have only just started marching for the day, we should not stop until nightfall," he replied, deciding that they would replenish their water skins and move on. Tempting as the water looked, it wasn't worth the delay.

"And where exactly are you marching too?" Gandalf asked him.

Thorin's mouth snapped closed and he was silent.

"In that case, let us stop and collect our bearings," the Wizard suggested after a moments pause, reading Thorin's lack of an answer in his silence. "I always meant to see you safely over the mountains -"

Miss Darrow gave a very loud, unladylike snort at this and Thorin could not help but agree with the sentiment behind it. The Wizard had stayed behind in Rivendell and had only caught up with them in Goblin-town, hardly exerting much effort to see them safe over the mountain.

Gandalf had continued as if there was no interruption. "- but now we are a good deal further east than I ever intended to come with you, I have some pressing business to attend to and this is not my adventure."

"You're leaving us?" Thorin asked sharply.

"I am not going to disappear this very instant, but yes," he replied.

Bilbo seemed positively aghast by this revelation and the rest of the company was no more pleased. Several of the Dwarves spoke out, offering him gold and jewels to stay.

Gandalf spoke over them. "As I told you many months ago, Thorin, your deeds may appear to be of vast importance to you, but they are only a single strand in the vast web. Besides, I think I have already earned a small share of your Dragon-gold, when you have got it," he added in response to the Dwarves entreaties.

Remembering that conversation from many moons ago back in the conclave in Ered Luin, Thorin recalled that Gandalf had not promised his presence throughout the whole of their venture and so reluctantly nodded his understanding at the Wizard, who continued, "I can give you a few more days of my company and help you out of your present plight of having little food or baggage, for I need help myself."

"And what do you suggest?" he asked imperiously.

"There is somebody that I know of who lives nearby, the same somebody who built the steps and named the Carrock," Gandalf said, nodding towards the rock structure behind them. "However, he is an unpredictable man and not fond of beggars. It would do no good to appear at his door in our current state, and so Miss Elizabeth's suggestion of stopping for a bath is a rather wise one," he finished, making Miss Darrow beam in response.

The company seemed largely pleased by this and if Gandalf deemed it to be a good idea then Thorin did not begrudge conceding the point. While the Dwarves may not be as fastidious as Miss Darrow when it came to bathing whist travelling, after their adventure under the mountain he knew that they would all welcome a wash. "Well, what are we waiting for?" Kili said with a grin and like a shot took off in the direction of the river, quickly followed by numerous members of the company.

Hearing the loud yells and sudden splashes, Thorin hesitated to join them. If he were to do so he would have to reveal the wounds on his chest and back that he could feel beneath the weight of his armour, injuries that probably needed tending to. While scars and wounds were largely considered to be badges of honour in their culture, he was not exactly proud of his confrontation with Azog: it burned him that the monster still lived and shamed him that he had bested him in a fight.

Further knowing that Oin would fuss, he decided to tend to his wounds himself and so stalked off to find another bit of the river so that he could bathe in solitude.

* * *

Lizzy had grinned hugely when Gandalf had talked Thorin into letting them stop for a bath. She had never been more eager to wash in her life, feeling utterly grimy and filthy with a disgusting mixture of sweat, dirt, blood and ash.

However she found herself disappointed when the Dwarves all instantly ran off in the direction of the water, several of them starting to discard clothes even as they ran, with Gandalf following at a more sedate pace. "Dammit," she muttered to herself as she watched them run.

"What's wrong?" Bilbo asked her, not having joined in the charge to the water.

"I wanted a bath too," she said mournfully as they vanished into the trees, sitting down on the floor to reluctantly wait her turn.

"Well why aren't you coming then?" Bilbo said, frowning down at her with a look of confusion.

Lizzy raised an eyebrow at him. "It may have escaped your notice, Bilbo, but I'm a _woman_ and I am not really wild about the idea of completely stripping down in front of the entire company."

"Ah," the Hobbit said, the faintest tinge of red high on his cheeks.

There was a long silence between them. Bilbo glanced at her, and then looked away and shuffled his feet. Then he opened his mouth as if to speak, only to close it again and fiddle with the one remaining button on his waistcoat, occasionally shooting her covert glances.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" Lizzy asked with concern after watching him do this for a while. "You're looking at me funny."

The Hobbit abruptly sat down to join her on the ground, his movements jerky and awkward. "When we left Goblin-town you said ..." he trailed off and shook his head. "It just doesn't make any _sense_, even if you know what is going to happen to the company, there is just no way you could know what happened to _me _down there."

She smirked at him. "You think so? Tell me, Bilbo, what have you got in your _nasty … little … pocketses?_" she hissed in her best Gollum impression.

Bilbo flinched violently, one hand flying to his waistcoat pocket. Lizzy smiled at his reaction. "You really are growing into the role of thief, aren't you?" she added in her normal voice.

"I didn't steal it," he insisted sharply, his hand clenched over his pocket.

"I know."

"Honestly, I didn't -"

"I _know_," she reiterated. There was another brief pause between them. "Can I see it?" she asked eventually.

Bilbo hesitated for a moment and then reached slowly into his pocket. His fist was clenched when he withdrew it. Holding it out towards her, he cautiously opened his fingers to reveal the plain, bright gold ring sitting inconspicuously in the centre of his palm.

Lizzy stared at it for a long moment, making no effort whatsoever to touch it. It was so plain and simple, shining brightly in the morning sunlight. She found it hard to believe that such a beautiful thing could be so evil – but then that was all part of the ring's lure, she supposed, breaking her gaze and looking away.

Bilbo half bounced the ring in his hand and then slipped it back into his pocket. "Is it really as important as you said?" he asked curiously.

"A ring that makes you invisible … don't you think that would be amazingly useful on a quest like this?" she put to him mildly, still not looking in his direction.

Bilbo was saved from replying by Gandalf's return from his very hasty wash in the river. It appeared that the Wizard had only washed the dust from his face and beard, which was dripping onto his grey robe. He noticed the two of them still lingering by the entrance of the wholesome, pebbly cave they had stopped in at the base of the Carrock.

"Elizabeth, a word," he said as he approached.

"Go have your bath, I'll go when you guys are done," she told Bilbo, who nodded and scampered off.

Gandalf folded himself down on the ground beside her and busied himself with his long pipe. He took his time filling it and tamping down the tobacco while Lizzy waited for him to speak. She hadn't spoken to the Wizard properly since Rivendell and was curious as to what he thought of her actions in allowing the company to be captured.

"Well?" she asked eventually, when he showed no signs of talking.

Gandalf lit his pipe with a small flame produced from his fingers and drew in deeply from the long stem, smoke just beginning to wreathe around him. Lizzy was reminded of sitting with him in Bilbo's garden so many weeks ago, when the Wizard had simply sat and smoked while she demanded to be sent home.

At long last, he began to speak. "I feel that I do not have to tell you to be careful in my absence, your actions have proved that you have an acute understanding of the weight I have placed upon you."

"You agree with what I did then?" she replied instantly. "Letting us be captured so that Bilbo would find the ring?"

"Of course," he said, occupying himself with blowing a smoke ring.

Lizzy felt a flash of annoyance. "Well, thanks so _bloody_ much for standing up for me then," she fumed. Having Gandalf on her side while desperately trying to explain herself to Thorin would have probably made things go a lot smoother.

"You were doing quite well against Thorin on your own, my dear," the Wizard said mildly, a note of amusement in his voice.

"I broke down in tears," she reminded him bluntly, her fingers fiddling with one of the rips in the knee of her trousers.

"Even the strongest of warriors are rarely composed after their first battle and I know I can trust you to be strong for what is coming ahead," Gandalf said reassuringly. He blew another smoke ring and then turned to look at her, his eyes very bright. "I'm proud of you, you have risen to the challenge before you with extraordinary grace and strength."

She snorted. "It doesn't feel that way sometimes," she muttered.

There was a long silence between them, during which Gandalf sent several more smoke rings up to join the ones dancing just below the rood of the cave. "Gandalf … I'm honestly not sure what to do," she said very quietly. The realisation of just how little she knew about what was coming now had hit her while they were walking, not having realised just how much she had relied in the visualisation of the movie. She remembered the book reasonably well, but it wasn't like she had it with her to check facts.

"The path is already before your feet, all you must do is keep going forwards," he said in a very wise and sententious voice.

"Right," she said, feeling distinctly unimpressed at that rather hollow and pithy response. She drummed her fingers on her knee and decided to ask a question that the Wizard might give a straight answer to. "How far away are we from Beorn's?"

"If we set a fast pace I am hoping to reach his house by late afternoon," he replied. "It would not be good to be near his lands after nightfall without us having introduced ourselves to him."

Recognising this as a suggestion that they should move on from here as soon as they had all finished, Lizzy climbed awkwardly to her feet, her wounds still twinging despite the bandage around them. "I might just go further downstream to wash instead of waiting for the others then, I can't wait to be clean again," she said.

Gandalf didn't reply, busy blowing an intricate and interlinked chain of rings from his mouth that defied all logic and physics – but not magic, she mentally amended.. Lizzy rummaged around in her bag, eventually locating her comb and the sadly depleted bottle of lime two-in-one shower-gel and shampoo. She then headed off into the trees to find a quiet stretch of river where she wouldn't be disturbed by Dwarves accidentally barging in on her.

She took in her surroundings as she meandered along. It appeared that the Carrock was a island pinnacle rising out of the river, which had split into two branches as it divided around it to form a lush oasis of trees and vegetation encompassing the rocks. This was a tactical advantage for them as well: Thorin may be concerned that Azog would catch up with them, but there was no way he could track the eagles flight and he would find no trace of their scent on the western side of the river. With the amount of differences between the book and the movie, she very much doubted they had seen the last of the Pale Orc on this journey, but with any luck they would be hundreds of miles away by the time the Orcs picked up their trail again.

Lizzy snorted to herself – such thoughts would never have even occurred to her a few weeks ago, the Dwarves were clearly rubbing off on her.

She opened her bottle to sniff it as she walked. The fruity citrus scent never failed to remind her of home and while she had used it as sparingly as possible while travelling she now only had little more of a third left.

Occupied thus, she was no longer paying much attention to her surroundings as she approached a small stretch of river and was therefore unprepared for the sight before her, stopping dead in her tracks.

Thorin was kneeling down by the waters edge, his armour, tunic and jacket in a pile beside him. His dark suede trousers were slung low on his hips, his torso and arms completely bare with his back tilted half towards her as he leant over the water. His arms were sinewy with muscle, the right one carrying a intricate lattice-work tattoo that wrapped around one bicep, its Dwarvish pattern reminding her of both Celtic knots and tribal markings.

She must have made some noise because he turned at her approach.

They stared at each other.

"Sorry," she blurted out. "I thought everyone was ..." Her hand fluttered in a vague gesture upriver.

"Evidently," he replied, his voice gravelly.

Lizzy's eyes drifted downwards of their own volition, taking in the contours of his torso and lingering over the broad shoulders tapering down to a waist that was only slightly more narrow. He was very heavily muscled, with dark hair covering his chest and running in a trail all the way down his flat abdomen before vanishing into the waistband of his trousers.

Then she sucked in a shocked breath, noticing the mottled-black bruising and numerous cuts that covered the pale gold of his skin. "Why didn't you get Oin to look at these?" she asked, taking a few steps forwards to get a better look.

"It's nothing," he replied brusquely, turning back to the water – and in doing so showed her his back, which was equally discoloured with bruises and dried blood from the small wounds that hadn't yet been tended to. There was another tattoo spanning across the top of his back: she recognised the seven stars of Durin, with the largest star at the top just below the base of his neck, while the other six fanned downwards in an inverted V towards his shoulder-blades. Beneath the stars was a single line in Dwarvish runes.

"Nothing?" she repeated incredulously, her eyes trailing over the numerous wounds. "Thorin, you're black and blue!"

"I said it's nothing," he repeated sternly, scooping up a handful of river water and using it to scrub his face – the meaning behind his movements was clear: I'm busy here, _leave_.

Shaking her head at his stubbornness, Lizzy pointed to a small boulder beside the river. "Sit there," she directed.

"Excuse me?"

"Sit down there, I'll be right back." Not waiting to see if he did as she'd commanded, she hurried back into the trees and headed towards the small cave they had left their belongings in. Gandalf raised a single eyebrow at her when she returned and immediately started rooting around in her bag once more, but Lizzy purposefully didn't even look at the Wizard.

Finding her first aid kit, she walked back to the river. Thorin was indeed sitting on the boulder as she had instructed, but he was busy lacing up a dark blue undershirt.

"Take it off," she ordered as she approached.

"I assure you, Miss Darrow, your ministrations are not necessary," he said firmly, eyeing the small white box in her hand.

"Take off your shirt, Thorin," she repeated, stopping to stand right in front of him.

"Miss Darrow -"

"_Thorin_."

They stared fiercely at each other, neither backing down.

Eventually Thorin sighed and relented. "You are not going to let this go, are you?" he said, yanking the shirt roughly back over his head and visibly wincing as he did so. "You are like a dog worrying a bone," he added sourly, tossing it back into the pile.

"But it's such a juicy bone," Lizzy said with a smirk, treated to the sight of his stomach muscles flexing as he undressed – Thorin may be an undeniable dick-head at times, but she was a red-blooded woman and she could appreciate beauty when it was before her.

When he was undressed once more she bent down slightly to look at the cuts. All of them had stopped bleeding and none of them were particularly deep, evidence of the hardiness of Dwarves. "You've cleaned them?" she asked and Thorin nodded in response. "You're lucky none of these need stitches."

His silence was almost patronising, as if he was condescending himself to allow her to play nurse. Thus far, he seemed unimpressed with the treatment.

She examined his chest and stomach, noticing the streaked pattern of the bruising. She remembered her older brother having similar bruises after acquiring a rib injury in a rugby game. The paramedic tending to him had pushed gently on his breastbone to see if his ribs were broken as a preliminary examination before announcing that he'd needed an x-ray.

Copying what she had seen the paramedic do, she braced one hand on Thorin's shoulder (who flinched almost unperceptively at the contact) and very gently applied pressure to the centre of his chest, his skin warm beneath hers.

Thorin hissed a sharp breath.

"That hurt?" she asked in concern.

"It only hurts when you push down on it, woman," he snarled angrily, batting her hand away.

Clearly he was determined to be a difficult patient, she begun to wonder if it would indeed have been better to have just walked away and left him to it. "Your ribs are injured," she told him coolly.

"I was aware," he retorted curtly, clearly still in pain from the way he rested on hand on his flank. "I believe one or more of them are cracked, or at least bruised," he added in a mutinous mutter.

"How do we deal with that? Do we bind your chest?" she asked, studying his torso once more.

Thorin shook his head. "No, it restricts breathing, they must heal on their own," he said, apparently making an effort to calm his temper after snapping at her. "You must limit your nursing to the cuts, if you insist on treating me."

Deciding to take this advice, Lizzy opened the first aid box and pulled out the disinfectant wipes. "These are antiseptic, it should stop them from getting infected," she informed him in a business-line tone as she tore open one of the packets.

She went to use them on his chest, but then noticed some of the injuries lower down near his firm abdomen muscles and the deep V of his hip-bones. Attractive though he may be, she certainly didn't want to be tending to any wounds that low down and doubted she would have been able to without blushing. She shoved the wipe into his hands and reached for another. "You do these ones, I'll get your back."

She moved around him and set to work on the cuts on his back. These ones were less clean, some of them still encrusted with dried blood that she carefully wiped away. There was silence between them as they worked. Thorin finished before her, the wounds on his front already having been cleaned previously. He sat surprisingly still and patient while she continued.

"What do the runes mean?" she asked eventually to break the silence, drawing her cloth over one of the tattooed stars.

"_Duty is deathless,_" Thorin replied, facing forwards. "They are the words of Durin's folk, my house."

Somehow it didn't surprise her that he had his family motto tattooed on his back. The Dwarves had told her the story of Durin the Deathless, Thorin's ancestor who had established a beginning for the Dwarves in Middle Earth. The word _duty_ seemed to encompass Thorin perfectly: in attempting to reclaim his kingdom he was fulfilling his duty to both his people and his family.

"You have so many scars," she said quietly, cleaning a cut that bisected a long scar running upwards from his hip to his spine. "You must have seen a lot of battles."

"Indeed, in our culture scars are considered to be badges of honour," he told her.

"Do you have any scars with _funny_ stories attached?" she asked curiously, not liking the idea that all of the pale white scars, ghosts of previous injuries, were caused by violence. "I've got one on my knee from when I convinced myself I could fly and jumped off a table."

Thorin was silent.

Lizzy exhaled gustily. "This is what friends do, Thorin. They share funny stories from their past," she told him patiently.

He sighed and tapped his temple, where there was a small scar near his hairline. "Frerin and I discovered that we could slide down stairs on a shield when we were Dwarflings. He challenged me to go down one of the larger staircases in Erebor and I lost control, falling the entire way down."

"I would like to have seen that," she said with a smile, wadding the dirt and blood soiled cloth up in the palm of her hand.

"Are you finished?" he asked after a moments silence, since she was no longer cleaning his back.

"Yes."

He immediately stood and went to don his shirt. Once more, she enjoyed the sight of the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he pulled it over his head. He picked up his armour and jacket, but made no move to put them on. "Enjoy your bath, Miss Darrow," he said with distinct gruffness after their almost-pleasant conversation and started walking away from the river.

"Lizzy," she called after him without thinking.

Thorin turned and looked at her questioningly.

"Seems ridiculous you calling me _Miss Darrow_ all the time when everyone else calls me Lizzy," she clarified. "Especially if we are going to be friends."

He nodded slowly, digesting this request. "Very well," he agreed, and then turned on his heel and vanished into the trees.

* * *

***Innocent look* Did I say when we _eventually_ get shirtless Thorin? I meant in the next chapter … **

**Every time you review Thorin takes off another item of clothing … just sayin' **

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	20. Beorn

"**Come on, my friends, let's make for the hills. They say there's gold but I'm looking for thrills.**

**You can get your hands on whatever we find, because I'm only coming along for the ride ****... **

**All I want to tell you, all I want to say is count me in on the journey, don't expect me to stay."**

**Pink Floyd, _'The gold, it's in the ...'_**

* * *

Thorin walked swiftly away from the river, his brow furrowed deeply as he headed back to the small cave the company had stopped at. The source of his contemplation was the same as it had been during their descent from the Carrock: once again, Elizabeth Darrow had managed to discompose him. He had been highly surprised by her arrival down by the river when he had been bathing, yet he felt that he had managed to hide it well despite being somewhat flustered by his state of undress.

His surprise had been also tinged with annoyance, he had left the company so that he wouldn't have to deal with prying eyes while tending to his wounds, yet now had to endure her presence. He didn't quite know how it was possible, but she was worse than Oin when it came to fussing over injuries. A rather impressive feat, he thought.

His manners had made it perfectly clear that he'd wanted her to leave and she had indeed done so. However, she had appeared to have every intention of coming back, therefore he had cut his bath short without tending to his wounds properly. Sure enough, she had quickly returned with what he had recognised as her small box of other-worldly medical supplies and had promptly shown him just how stubborn she could be with a cause.

In the end it had been easier just to give in and let her tend to him; he'd reasoned that he could certainly use the assistance with the wounds on his back.

Her concern had surprised him after he had shouted at her a few scant hours ago. Remembering how she had cried, he'd felt a small twinge of guilt for his actions while she tended to his wounds – a twinge that had quickly turned to a stabbing pain when she had decided it was a good idea to merrily press her hand down on his injured ribs.

In pain, he had snapped at her and then made a conscious effort to calm himself. After their conversation on the Carrock they had come to a cautious truce and it would not do to shout at her for the second time that day.

However, it appeared that she had taken his suggestion that there be more trust between them with both hands and ran with it. He had started to wonder if he had made a mistake in attempting a sort of friendship with her when it became apparent that she wanted him to share stories about his past. Still, it was better than tears, which he was acutely aware he had caused in her that morning.

Nevertheless, he had found himself a little uncomfortable sharing such stories with her. It was something he didn't do often, even with those he did consider to be friends. He had definitely never shared such stories with a woman, and certainly not when he was only half dressed.

Approaching the cave, Thorin saw the company lounging around with their clothes drying in the sun. Some of them were dozing while they had the chance, whereas others were seeing to their armour and weapons after the battle. A calmness had descended upon them all and Thorin found himself glad that they had stopped in the end. They needed this tranquillity after the events of yesterday.

"But what does it matter if she's not a Dwarf?" he heard Kili asking plaintively. He was sitting next to Balin with his back braced against the rock wall, checking the fletching of his arrows after the fight. "She's still a member of the company, she is still _Lizzy_."

"You know that our culture is an immensely private one, we are a diminishing race and being separate from the world protects us," Balin replied sternly, not having noticed Thorin's presence. Kili opened his mouth to respond, but the older Dwarf spoke over him. "You are not remembering your lessons, laddie. Long ago Eöl was welcomed into Dwarvern halls and taught our craft, but that friendship led to the sacking of Norgrod and the theft of Nauglamìr."

"All of that was an entire age in the past," Kili argued back. "And Lizzy is no Elf like Eöl was, she is like us." Kili fiddled with his arrows and then muttered, "I think you're just annoyed that she didn't tell us about the Goblins."

"While I do not think it was a wise decision on her part, I am aware that Miss Lizzy is a good lass and she is dear to all of us," Balin said consolingly. "However, the fact remains that she is no Dwarf and she should not be treated as such."

After uttering these words Balin noticed Thorin listening in and immediately fell silent, no doubt remembering his King's orders for them to make their peace with her adoption. Thorin decided not to comment on Balin's words and moved past them into their makeshift camp.

As he did so he noticed something about their small pile of salvaged baggage – or rather, he noticed a lack of something.

"Where is my shield?" he asked in a loud voice to the company at large.

When his question was met with ashamed silence and averted looks the realisation that the shield was gone swept over him. Thinking back, he remembered bearing it in his charge towards Azog and realised that he must have dropped it at some point during the battle. He ran one hand over his mouth as he gazed towards their luggage, feeling its loss as akin to loosing a limb. He'd had the shield for over a century. It was a part of him, a part of identity – it had even become part of his name.

He remembered the day that he had acquired the shield, well over a century ago; he remembered picking it up in battle and he remembered carrying the branch from the battlefield as if it was yesterday, the new weight of the kingship heavy on his shoulders. He had been overwhelmed by grief and had lingered in the forge for a whole day after the battle, hammering metal over and over, coating the splintered ends of the shield in iron and forging a handle in the inner curve of the branch to use as a grip.

His very identity had changed that day: he was no longer a young prince, but Thorin Oakenshield, king of his people.

"It fell from your arm when the eagle picked you up, there was no time to ..." Kili said and slowly trailed off, no doubt fearing he would be angry.

"It is of no importance," he said gruffly, turning away from the pile. Truly, he would rather loose the shield than a member of the company having risked their life to retrieve it, but he couldn't deny that the idea of his shield not being on his arm or strapped to the top of his pack while travelling made him feel hollow inside.

The entire company remained in strained silence as he sat down and started to clean his sword and armour as best he could. Within a few minutes it became apparent to them that he was truly not angry at the loss of his shield and the tension gradually broke. Small, quiet conversations started and Bombur began sharing out the little food they had left in their salvaged supplies. They were in dire need of provisions and Thorin hoped that this person Gandalf was leading them to would indeed be able to help them.

He had been back at the camp for nearly an hour before Miss Darrow returned – _Lizzy_, he reminded himself, as she had requested he call her.

He mentally rolled the name around his tongue, finding it foreign and unpalatable. Her name was no doubt unique in all of Middle Earth and was a reminder that she was not from this world. It didn't entirely suit her, sounding coarse and unfeminine to him. The letters were unpleasantly harsh, yet at the same time it held a fitting playfulness.

He was also aware that it was a shortened version of her name. While she had made it clear that this was her preference it still felt like an intimacy too far, one that he was not certain he was comfortable with. Within Dwarf culture honorifics were constantly observed and while most of the company (aside from him) did indeed address her by her preferred shortened name, it had only been after a lot of prompting to do so on her part.

When she'd emerged from the trees he noticed that she looked distinctly fresher than she had before. The blood and dirt had gone from her face, the cuts on her lip and hairline and the few rips in her clothing the only lingering visual evidence of their adventure under the mountain. Her golden hair was no longer tangled and matted with blood, but dark with moisture and hanging wet and combed down her back.

She walked past him to reach her bag and he caught a fruity, exotic scent around her as she repacked her medical-kit, comb and the bottle of liquid soap from her world (the apparent origin of the citrus smell) into the bag. He had noticed such a scent lingering in the air whenever she returned from bathing in the past and for the first time managed to place why it was familiar to him: it reminded him a little of the lemon-cakes his sister was so fond of making, familiar but at the same time strange and alien.

The company moved on not long after her return, with everyone feeling far cleaner and more rested than they had in days. They had to ford the river to leave the little island the Carrock rested upon, with a grumbling Dwalin carrying an embarrassed Mr Baggins. They all took off their boots, holding them high in the air above them as they forded so that they could put them on dry at the other side of the river.

They walked for several long hours, up hill and down dales they plodded until Bilbo started to grumble that he would surely collapse if he didn't eat again soon. He was largely ignored, but as the afternoon wore on hunger twinges were making themselves known among the whole company.

Being August, the sun did not set until late in the day. It was well after what would be considered dinner time in decent places when they heard Gandalf telling Bilbo about the man that they were meeting. The Dwarves started joining in and asking questions, requesting that he explain more carefully, forcing Gandalf to speak over them in a loud voice to be heard.

"I was explaining carefully, if you were actually listening," he replied in a tone thick with annoyance. "If you must know, the man's name is Beorn and he is a skin-changer."

"What, a furrier? He changes squirrel skins into rabbits before he peddles them, that sort of thing?" Bilbo said, clearly mistaking the skin-changers of legend with hunters and trappers who came into markets to sell their wares.

"By the Valar, _no_ Mr Baggins," Gandalf replied in horror, then his voice quickly became stern. "If you insist on being a fool then at least be a silent one, and do not mention the word furrier again within a hundred miles of his house, nor any other such unfortunate word to do with the skinning of animals."

Bilbo looked down at the ground, thoroughly chastened.

"Beorn literally changes his skin, he is sometimes a man and sometimes a great black bear," Gandalf explained. "Some say that he is a bear descended from the great and ancient bears of the mountains. Others say that he is a man descended from the first men who lived before Smaug or the other dragons came into this part of the world. I cannot say for certain, though I fancy the last is the true tale, though he is under no enchantment of his own at any rate."

"He does not sound entirely safe, is there no one else who can assist us?" Thorin asked, disliking the idea of a man who changed into a bear at whim. They'd had enough trouble with bears in the Blue Mountains in recent years to make them an animal that he was not fond of.

"No there is not," Gandalf replied grumpily. "And if you do not like the idea then I shall leave your company now and try my luck with Beorn alone, and you can sort out your plight of having little food or baggage by yourselves."

Thorin closed his mouth and was silent. The company continued onwards, asking no more question of Gandalf lest they provoked his temper.

They had not been walking for much longer when Thorin started noticing flowers and clover in the grass, the same kinds all together in clumps as if they had been planted. Buzzing around them were great bees, their vast bodies about half the size of his thumb and their yellow stripes shining like gold fresh from the forge.

"We are getting close, we are on the edge of his bee pastures," Gandalf explained as the drone of the bees rose to a cacophony. "He keeps vast hives of bees and lives mostly off cream and honey."

The company made their way round the edge of the pastures, taking care not to step on any bees, Bilbo in particular with his bare Hobbit feet. The bees were undisturbed by their presence, happily buzzing around the flowers and paying no attention to the strangers on their lands. After several more minutes they came to a belt of tall and ancient oak trees, beyond which was a large hedge, too thick to see through.

Gandalf halted the company.

"This is far enough, I think. It would not do to bother Beorn with all of us at once so you had best wait here until I call or whistle, then come after me in pairs every few minutes," he told the company, sounding very authoritative. "I shall go first with Mr Baggins, who is by far the least threatening out of you all."

Bilbo's eyes widened at this announcement.

"And as leader of the company, I suggest you follow afterwards, Thorin, and bring Miss Elizabeth with you," Gandalf continued. "Beorn would not like the idea of an injured woman being left waiting on his doorstep. Beyond that you can organise yourselves as you wish."

Thorin nodded his understanding and the Wizard gestured for the Hobbit to join him, who looked unreasonably nervous after his impressive show of bravery back against the Goblins. "Come, Mr Baggins, I believe there is a gate around this way," he said and the two of them vanished around the hedge.

* * *

The second the Wizard and Hobbit were out of earshot Thorin rounded on Lizzy. "What do you know of this man?" he demanded and the other Dwarves looked interestedly at her to see her response.

Lizzy shrugged, the movement tugging on her bandaged wounds. "Not a lot beyond what Gandalf has already said," she told them. "He will be suspicious of us at first, but will warm up once he knows our story is true. We will be safe here," she assured him.

"Anything else?" Thorin asked, clearly having hoped for more information.

She pursed her lips and racked her brains, trying to remember what the book said about Beorn aside from their stay at his house and his presence in the Battle of the Five Armies. "Apparently he doesn't eat meat," she added as she thought of it; she remembered how strange she had found it in the book that Beorn didn't eat wild animals even as a bear, despite them being his natural food source in that form.

The Dwarves all groaned at this announcement, the fierce and disapproving scowl Dwalin had been sending in her direction most of the day darkening further as he growled, "No meat?"

"No meat," she confirmed, a little unnerved by the large Dwarfs glower.

"Why is it we always find ourselves staying with people who don't eat meat?" Fili said with a heavy sigh, no doubt remembering their unsatisfactory meal at Rivendell. "What I wouldn't give for a rare steak served with mountains of roasted vegetables and gravy right now."

"Or a platter of ribs," Kili suggested with a slightly dreamy expression.

Bombur groaned, his hands splayed over his vast stomach. "Don't talk about food lads, I don't think I can bare it."

Lizzy smiled at her large, newly acquired family member. "We'll be fed soon enough, Bombur. We'll have things like cream and honey and bread – and it will all be served to us by animals, if I remember rightly."

However her smile and voice was wan: their conversation by the hedge felt stilted and forced, with only a few members of the company deigning to speak while the others stood in silence. The conversation trailed off after she'd told them what sort of food to expect and the silence rapidly became awkward. She found herself very relieved when a shrill whistle rent the air in the distance.

"Shall we?" she said to Thorin with a smile that was perhaps a little too bright.

The two of them walked around the hedge side by side, following in the footsteps of Gandalf and Bilbo. They soon came to a tall, wide wooden gate that creaked loudly on it's hinges when Thorin pushed it open. Beyond them they could see gardens and several low, wooden buildings made of uncarved logs and thatched with straw. Most of them appeared to be stables, sheds and barns, no doubt for Beorn's animals, but the largest building was a long, wooden house with two large wings that would form a courtyard. To one side of the house there were dozens of beehives, with countless bees coming and going.

"I have a question for you," Lizzy said abruptly as they walked.

Thorin was silent and she took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

"Why have certain members of the company been giving me the stink eye since leaving the Carrock?" she asked curiously. "Is it because I didn't tell them about the Goblins?"

"Partially," he replied with a grunt.

"Mm hmm," Lizzy hummed. "And … what's the other part?"

Thorin's hand came up to flick her new hair bead once more as they walked, sending it skittering into her cheek.

"So the Ur brothers consider me to be family, what's the problem?" she wanted to know, not seeing why this was an issue.

He sighed. "I thought as much, you do not understand the gravity of their offer and your acceptance," he said, sounding resigned, walking with one hand on his sword hilt and the other with his thumb stuck into his belt. "At several points in our past we have opened our halls to outsiders and taught them our crafts, but not once in the entire history of our race have we adopted a non-Dwarf into one of our clans … until today."

Lizzy's mouth was hanging partially open, truly she had not understood exactly what Bifur was offering and it sounded significant in the extreme. "But … if it's such a big deal was Bifur even _allowed_ to make me the offer?"

"The clans belong to all, they are a family not a political system," Thorin explained, glancing once at her as he spoke. "Adoption into clans is not uncommon, our tribes are scattered between the remaining Dwarvern realms and so some Dwarves belong to two or three different tribes. Each member is free to do as they wish, but certain things like marriage or adoption must be sanctified by the clan elder to be official. It is the fact that you are a human that is the problem."

"How … xenophobic of you," she said slowly, her brow creasing.

Thorin gave her a sharp look. "You consider it xenophobia to protect your people from outsiders?"

"In this instance, yes," she replied with assurance, not liking this discrimination against her because of her race. She had always had very liberal opinions when it came to nationalities, genders and sexuality. "It's not like I'm out to destroy the Dwarves."

"Despite leading us into Goblin-town," Thorin said in a deceptively neutral voice.

Lizzy stopped in her tracks, staring at his back. He had donned his armour and coat once more, she noticed. "Was that sarcasm?"

"Our race has not had an easy past," he continued, not having paid attention to her stopping. He was still walking as he spoke and his pace forced her to trot to catch up with him once more. "History has taught us to be wary of outsiders."

She thought about this for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder as she walked. "I suppose you don't have to worry hugely about me though. I mean, I'll be off home back to my world once you've reclaimed Erebor."

It was Thorin's turn to stop. Lizzy walked forward a few steps before realising he was not at her side and then halted herself, turning to look at him quizzically. He was staring at her with a mildly surprised look that abruptly turned blank. "Of course."

He started walking again and there was silence between them as they headed towards the courtyard. Lizzy noticed intricate carvings around the awnings of the house, many of them featuring bears and other animals. They walked around the edge of one of the wings of the house and turned into the courtyard, whereupon they saw Gandalf and Bilbo sitting on a bench and talking to a mammoth of a man. He was tall and broad, wearing no shirt to reveal an excessively hairy back and chest, half covered by a great black beard. He turned at their approach, piercing them with his very dark eyes and scrutinising them.

"Ah, here they are," Gandalf said, sounding pleased as Lizzy and Thorin came to a halt in front of the trio.

"Thorin Oakenshield ... at your service," the Dwarf king said with the smallest of bows, keeping his gaze fixed on the man before them.

Lizzy was about to introduce herself also, but Beorn spoke over her with a loud growl. "I don't need your service, thank you, though I suspect you might be needing mine," he said, looking very unimpressed with them. "I have heard of you, Thorin son of Thrain. I am not fond of Dwarves, but if you are enemies of the Goblins then I will hear your story." He then jerked his chin at Lizzy. "Who is your lady?"

"Elizabeth Darrow, pleased to meet you," she told him, consciously not saying anything about service.

Beorn's eyes zeroed in on the cuts on her lower lip and near her hairline. "You're injured," he observed.

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth was injured in our skirmish with the Goblins," Gandalf explained.

Beorn snorted. "I'd heard that Dwarves take good care of their women, perhaps I was misinformed," he said, giving Thorin a hard glance, who stiffened almost imperceptibly at the implication. His gaze returned to Lizzy once more. "But you are not a Dwarf at all. A Wizard, A Hobbit, a Dwarf and a woman all travelling together … this tale gets stranger and stranger in the telling." He slapped his massive thigh and looked to Gandalf. "What are you doing in my lands?"

"Thorin is on his way to visit the land of his fathers, to the east of Mirkwood," the Wizard explained. "It is entirely an accident that we are in your lands at all, we were taking the High Pass and intending to travel via the road south of your country when we were attacked by the Goblins I told you of."

"Go on telling then!" Beorn ordered, leaning back in his seat to listen. Lizzy and Thorin awkwardly took seats on the bench Gandalf and Bilbo were seated on.

"There was a terrible storm and the Stone Giants were out throwing rocks, so at the head of the pass we took shelter in a cave. I was not with them at this point for I had planned to meet them in the mountains, but the Hobbit and several of his companions -"

"You call two several?" Beorn interrupted, nodding to the two new additions.

"There are a few more of us, they don't seem to have come when I called," Gandalf hedged. "Shy, I expect. To tell you the truth we thought we might be too many for you to entertain."

The massive man scowled fiercely. "Well, go ahead and call again, I am in for a party it seems so one or two more won't make much difference."

Gandalf whistled once more, loud and shrill, and before he had even finished Fili and Kili were rounding the corner of the house, having followed the Wizards orders of coming in pairs every few minutes.

With beaming smiles and their usual congenial friendliness they approached the group.

"Fili."

"And Kili."

"At your ser -" they started to say together with a low bow, but were interrupted by Beorn before they could get the words out.

"Yes, fine, I don't need your service," he snapped, making the two younger Dwarves look up at him in surprise from their prostrated positions. He gestured for them to sit down, and with the bench now full they were forced to sit on the floor like children, awkwardly positioning themselves with their numerous weapons. "Let's get on with this tale or it shall be dark by the time you've finished."

"Yes, well … " Gandalf continued, finding his thread of thought once more. "While they were asleep a crack in the floor of the cave opened and the whole troop was -"

"Troop?" Beorn interjected, a note of suspicion in his gravelly voice.

Gandalf was saved from replying by Balin and Dwalin's arrival. Beorn narrowed his dark eyes at them as they approached, looking most seriously displeased. "A troop indeed."

"Dwalin."

"And Balin -"

"Just your names, when I want your service I will ask for it," he said, forestalling their inevitable bows and turning back to the Wizard once they had sat down on the floor also. "Go on."

"Anyway, they were all captured save for myself who had yet to join the party," he continued once more. "But I quickly realised what had happened and made the descent down to Goblin town, killing several guards on my way.

"Good," Beorn growled in approval, the first Lizzy had seen from him since her arrival. "It seems there is some use in being a Wizard after all."

"Indeed, though by this point the company had been bought before the Great Goblin and was surrounded by numerous Goblins in the main hall. I regret to say that the Goblins took a special interest in Miss Elizabeth and were threatening torture, which is how she acquired her injuries," the Wizard told him, making Beorn's eyes flick to her once more, his gaze assessing. "I thought to myself, what could a dozen do against so many?"

"This is the first time I have heard eight called a dozen," the man said, a note of warning in his voice – he had clearly cottoned to the Wizards scheme.

Oin and Gloin arrived at that moment from around the corner of the house. Beorn did not even turn in their direction, pointing sternly at the floor. "Sit down and be silent," he ordered with a snarl, and Oin and Gloin were too surprised to do otherwise, their words of introduction and service dying in their mouths.

"Are there any more jack-in-the-box Dwarves waiting to come out and surprise me?" Beorn growled at the Wizard.

"Well …"

In a sudden movement that startled them all, he got to his feet and strode swiftly to the edge of the house. "If any Dwarves are still there waiting, stop loitering and get in here now!" he bellowed towards the direction of the gate and then stood, glowering fiercely as he watched the rest of the company approach.

"And I thought you could be bad tempered at times," Lizzy muttered to Thorin, not really intending for him to hear her. Nevertheless, he turned and gave her a look, his brow furrowed.

A sheepish trail of Dwarves entered the courtyard, their heads down against the force of Beorn's stare. Noticing the rest of the company seated around the Wizard, they all threw themselves onto the floor and were silent.

"Is this the whole of your company?" Beorn asked, returning to his seat in front of Gandalf.

"Yes."

"Well, clearly you all survived your encounter with the Goblins and the little lady is not much the worse for wear," he said with a quick nod in Lizzy's direction. "What I am curious about is to how. Finish your tale and make it brief, my patience grows thin."

Gandalf did so, detailing the events of their flight from Goblin-town and escape from the mountain, leaving out Bilbo's temporary absence and jumping straight to their encounter with the wargs, being forced to climb the trees and Azog's arrival.

Beorn's scowl deepened even further at the Pale Orc's name. "The Defiler."

"Yes."

"He is known to me from long ago, I was told he was dead." He gave Thorin a pointed look.

"We believed him to be so," Thorin replied in a tight voice, speaking for the first time since introducing himself.

"From what I have heard there are not many who survive an encounter with the Defiler, let alone a second encounter," he said, still scrutinising Thorin before returning his eyes to Gandalf once more. "So what happened once you were in the trees?"

It was clear that he is becoming more intrigued with their tale, despite his efforts to appear uninterested.

Gandalf told him of the trees falling and their throwing of flaming pine-cones. Beorn seemed roused by his words, getting up to pace a few steps around the courtyard, his fists clenching and unclenching as he walked. "I wish I had been there, I would have given them more than fireworks," he growled as if to himself. "Go on, finish the story."

The Wizard glossed over Thorin's fight with the Defiler and told of their escape via the eagles, finishing with their arrival on the Carrock and the decision to call upon him.

At the end of the tale Beorn stopped his pacing and sat in silence, his elbows braced on his brawny knees. The silence endured for well over a minute, during which the company began to fidget as their doom was decided.

Eventually, Beorn slapped both hands on his thighs. "A very good tale, if all beggars could equal it then they might find me kinder. You might be lying, of course, but I think you have earned supper at least by entertaining me," he gestured towards the house and they breathed a sigh of relief. "Come, let's go inside."

The Dwarves got to their feet with a chorus of _thank-you's_ and _most grateful_ and a few more _at your services_ from those who had arrived later. Beorn pulled himself up to his full and most intimidating height and waited for them to fall silent, which didn't take long under his stare.

"Your gratitude I'll accept," he said in a very self important and stern voice. "But say one more word about service and you shall be out on the doorstep with nothing more than a hard crust of bread for your supper."

The company wisely remained silent as they crossed the threshold of Beorn's home.

* * *

** Reviews are most welcome – for this weeks question, who is your OTP at the moment?**

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	21. Stirring the leaves

"**I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul."**

_**Invictus**_**, William Earnest Henley.**

* * *

The inside of Beorn's home was lit by dozens of flickering beeswax candles that had dripped onto every surface they rested upon. Almost everything was made of wood, with a few of the walls supported by great stones that were almost the size of Bilbo. There windows set high into the walls, with the remaining afternoon light slanting in at an angle to form rectangular patterns on the stone floor, which was strewn with strands of straw between the woven rugs. Above them were vaulted wooden pillars and beams, all intricately and lovingly carved with both knot-work and animals.

Approaching the table, Lizzy gently ran her hand over a carving of a detailed warthog complete with tusks that stood at one of at the four corners as she looked around her in wonder.

Beorn clapped his hands and from the far end of the hall two beautiful white ponies trotted in, followed by several dogs. He spoke to them in some strange, animal language and they immediately set about around the house: the dogs built up the fire with logs carried in their mouths, which Beorn lit himself with a taper from one of the candles, whereas the ponies nosed around in one of the cupboards until they emerged with a large cloth which they tossed over the table and pulled into position with their teeth before vanishing back down the end of the hall.

One of the long-bodied, grey dogs paused to sniff her curiously as it passed her. She rubbed her hand around its silky ears and it licked her fingers playfully before bounding off to join the others.

The vast man offered his hand to Lizzy, who took it bemusedly, noticing how his huge, hairy-knuckled fingers swallowed her own much smaller ones. She allowed him to lead her around the table, taking a seat on the bench next to his large, carved chair at the head. The Dwarves followed her, with Thorin seating himself opposite her, next to Beorn on the other side of the table and Gandalf taking the second large chair at the foot.

Once they were all seated the ponies returned, leading several sheep carrying trays on their backs. Within minutes there were bowls of honey-roasted vegetables, baskets of fresh, grainy bread and pots of cream and honey covering the table. The company all started to dig in heartily, only to be interrupted by the ponies rolling in two large barrels of mead that were also quickly spread out among tankards on the table, much to the enthusiasm of the Dwarves.

Beorn told tales in his deep, rolling voice as they ate gustily; he told stories of the mountains and the far north that fairly chilled them. Constantly weaving in and out of his tales was the vast forest of Mirkwood. He told frightening accounts of giant, disfigured animals with twisted bodies and hearts that preyed on the woodmen, insects and spiders of epic proportions, and people who had strayed from the paths, some who had lost their minds and some who had never been seen again.

When it came out that Thorin still intended to take them south, to travel via the Old Forest Road, Beorn shook his head. "I would not recommend that route. It is overgrown and has fallen into disrepair, with the road to the east swallowed by marshes. I also hear that it is commonly used by Goblins. I would suggest the Elf-path, a route to the north of here," he said commandingly, clearly expecting his advice to be heeded.

Thorin inclined his head in reply, apparently deep in thought at his words.

The light had dimmed and once their plates were cleared and pipes lit, with smoke winding its way up to the ceiling, the Dwarves started to recount stories in their turn in response to the tales Beorn had told. They were stories of mountains and gold and fabulous jewels, along with great battles between Dwarves and Goblins. Lizzy was fascinated to listen, many of them being stories that they hadn't told her while they were travelling, but Beorn was nodding in his seat, clearly uninterested.

"Do they always tell tales like this? Dull accounts of gold and silver and the like?" the bear-man asked eventually, leaning forward to address her in a hushed voice and a small smile beneath his beard.

Lizzy grinned, an idea suddenly occurring to her. "I know a story you might like, if you're interested."

Beorn raised one of his bushy eyebrows, inviting her to continue.

* * *

The night was getting late and Thorin was listening to Gloin's tale of one of their ancestors, the story of Durin the fourth and his battles against the Goblins of the Grey Mountains, when a deep chortle to his right distracted him. Miss Darrow was telling their host a tale of her own in a quiet voice that he seemed to enjoy, laughing every few minutes. Listening in, Thorin caught that it was a story about a young princess who had accidentally turned her mother into a bear.

Within minutes conversation around the table had trailed off and everyone was curiously listening to her talk. She quickly noticed her new audience and faltered, a fetching pink appearing high on her cheeks, but she rallied and continued on, raising her voice so that all could hear.

She was very animated while speaking thus, portraying the different characters with their own unique voices and gesturing a lot with her arms in a way that had them all engaged. It was a tale that they had never heard before, with her never having shared any stories from her world. Ori was scribbling frantically in his journal, trying to capture her every word.

She bought her tale to a close and Beorn clapped his hands once she had finished. "Bravo, my lady," he said with the first proper smile Thorin had seen on the giant man, making her grin in turn. "A fine tale, if I may say so myself."

Their host then looked down the table, noticing the empty plates and full tankards in the hands of the Dwarves seated there, along with Bilbo fast asleep with his head on the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, good guests, I have business to attend to," he said, and Thorin wondered what could possibly call him from the house so late at night. Beorn stood up and gestured to a small, raised platform to one side of the hall. "You will find the dogs have put beds out for you. Please, continue to enjoy your repast and retire when you're ready." His voice turned serious. "Though I warn you, do not venture outside until the sun is up, at your own peril," he added, and then strode down the hall and out of the door without another word.

There was a brief silence after his departure, during which the company watched Beorn's dogs add more logs to the great fire while the ponies doused the torches on the walls, lowering the light in the room to a bright, flickering umber that licked at the walls. Conversations started again as low murmurs and within minutes various members of the company were leaving the table with their tankards in hand to go and sit around the fire.

Eventually Thorin was the last one left at the table, listening to the slow, ponderous songs that the company had started singing behind him, occasionally interspersed with laughter. Reaching for his pack, which he had pushed under the table with his foot, he rummaged around until he located two pieces of parchment. One was the map of Erebor and the other a map of the Wilderland, specifically Mirkwood. Pulling one of the flickering beeswax candles closer, he bent over the table to scrutinise them both, his eyes darting over the parchment.

Beorn had recommended the Elf-path and he quickly located it, noticing that it went almost directly towards the mountain, convenient and saving them a long northward march. Thorin found himself wondering if that was the path Miss Darrow's story said they would take, if their decision of route had already been made for him in the book she spoke of.

Glancing up, he quickly located her sitting cross-legged by the fire with Ori, a tankard loosely held in one hand, seemingly telling him more stories from her world based on the way he was still eagerly making notes in his journal.

Her earlier words about returning to her own world had caught him off guard. While they were not close, after travelling with her for so long he had grown somewhat accustomed to her presence. It made him ponder why she had agreed to come on this quest at all when there seemed to be no gain in it for her: she seemed to have little interest in the material reward and was not attempting to reclaim a home. The only reason he could see for her coming was her intention to change the outcome of the quest, yet if that was the case she was doing so at great personal risk and discomfort, deliberately placing herself in the path of danger since she knew the trials they would face.

He was torn as to whether this made her brave or extremely foolish.

Forcing his mind away from their advisor, Thorin lost himself in a new train of thought, looking down at the map as he considered the implications and possibilities of the two roads before them. Both were fraught with peril in their own way, but the Old Forest Road was terrain he had covered several times before, whereas he had never traversed the Elf-path. He was not certain if the scale of his Wilderland map was accurate, but the Elf-path looked significantly narrower than the Old Forest Road. Considering that the Men-i-Nagaurim was only wide enough for two ponies or four Dwarves to walk abreast the Elf-path might leave them trailing along with difficulty in single file.

However, the Old Forest Path would have been the logical choice of route when they came down from the High Pass and would be the first place Azog would think to look for them. If they were caught on the road there would be no escape and it would come down to a fight; the Pale Orc had a greater number with him as well as his wargs, making such an encounter unappealing in the extreme. Whereas if they went north with any luck it could be days or even weeks before the Pale Orc picked up their trail again.

There were also the spiders to consider. He had seen evidence of webs in the undergrowth the last time he had travelled on the Old Forest Road, but if his map was accurate in its depiction of the location of the spiders lairs then they would be in far greater danger of an encounter on the Elf-path. While there was a greater risk of Goblins on the southern route, they were a known enemy and probably easier to fight than monstrous spiders.

Long hours passed as he poured over the maps, taking them deep into the middle of the night. Behind him the company were still singing around the fire that was gradually burning down, oblivious to his inner turmoil. Beneath the deep, resonant noise of their familiar songs Thorin fancied that he heard the hooting of owls outside in the darkness and a soft whisper like the wind in the branches stirring in the rafters above him. Looking around once more, he noticed that Miss Darrow had moved from her position by the fire and was on her knees in one corner, trying unsuccessfully to coax a litter of kittens from their basket with a small bowl of cream.

Apparently sensing his gaze on her, she glanced up and met his eyes. Scooping her tankard up from where it rested on the floor, she clambered to her feet and padded towards him. He noticed that she had removed her boots at some point in the evening and her feet were bare once more, silent on the stone floor "What are you still doing over here?" she asked in a soft voice so as not to disturb the rest of the group.

"Just thinking," he replied with deliberate vagueness, moving one hand to cover the map of the Wilderland.

She lowered herself down into the seat beside him with a small, sideways smile. "And what are you thinking about?"

Thorin scrutinised her, the red of the flames catching in her loose, golden-brown hair as she studied him in return with her head tilted to one side. He found himself remembering what she had said about Beorn being suspicious of them and even the food that they would be served here. The level of accuracy her knowledge had unnerved him sometimes.

"You knew the type of food we would eat," he replied, voicing his thought in response to her question. "Bread, cream and honey, you said."

"So?" she questioned, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly.

He lent towards her over the table, holding her gaze. "Tell me everything, everything that you know about our quest," he ordered quietly.

She didn't respond instantly, looking at him with her wide, ash grey eyes, and in the silence that followed his question he heard the company singing a familiar song in their deep, resonant voices.

_"The wind was on the withered heath,_

_ but in the forest stirred no leaf:_

_ there shadows lay by night and day,_

_ and dark things silent crept beneath."_

"I … I can't," she replied eventually, looking troubled, much like she had in Rivendell when he had first discovered her strange knowledge. "You know I can't. It would be dangerous for you to know things."

He had half expected this answer, but still knew that she might possibly reveal more if he prompted further. "Beorn recommended the Elf-path," he said, removing his hand from the map and tilting it to show her, their heads close together to share the light of the single candle. The fire had died down to flickering embers, the rest of the company silhouetted against the pool of light by the hearth while the two of them spoke softly in the shadows. "Is that the road we take?"

She nodded cautiously and slowly, her eyes trailing over the map.

Thorin rubbed one hand over his beard, studying the map once more. "Mirkwood is perilous, especially if the Men-i-Nagurim has become impassable and infested with Goblins. And I have not travelled the Elf-path before," he mused aloud, tapping his fingers on the parchment.

"Shh," she said suddenly, holding up one hand to forestall him speaking further, her eyes on the floor. Looking downwards to follow her gaze, he saw that one of the kittens she had been trying to befriend had followed her to the table and was curiously investigating her feet, batting at the fraying hem of her trousers. It was tiny, with a black body, large blue eyes and tufty white paws. Thorin was ignored as she slowly lowered a hand for the little cat to sniff her fingers, letting it know it could trust her. When it butted its head against her hand, demanding to be stroked, she scooped it up and rubbed its soft fur against her cheek as the little kitten purred contentedly in her hands.

It was strange seeing her this relaxed, Thorin realised, studying her as she pulled sympathetic faces at the little cat. Even in Rivendell she had been tense but here, away from the cares of travelling on the road, a soft smile playing around her mouth and remains of the firelight dancing in her hair, she appeared much more serene.

He looked back down to the map.

"What hazards can we expect on the Elf-path, Miss Darrow?" he asked firmly, tracing the line of the path with a finger and tapping the Lonely Mountain.

"Lizzy," she reminded him, scratching the cat down its back as it arched into her hand. Looking away from the kitten, she gazed pensively at him with her head tilted to the side once more, probably internally debating how much of her knowledge to reveal. "Have you ever heard of Sods Law?"

He felt his brow furrowing in confusion at her words.

"It's an expression from my world," she elaborated, reading his misunderstanding. "It basically means that if anything _can_ go wrong, then it _will_ go wrong."

He stilled, thinking of all the dangers Mirkwood presented along with her words. "Spiders?" he hazarded as a guess, having already taken note of the proximity of the drawn webs to the Elf-path.

She hummed non-committally, nuzzling the kitten once more.

"Elves?" he guessed further, knowing that the path would bring them right alongside the Elven-Kings halls in the forest caves.

His only reply was a smile that made his heart sink.

"Thranduil has no love for me," he said with a heavy sigh. "If we do encounter Elves then they will try to hinder us." Yet if they encountered Goblins on the Men-i-Nagurim they would try to _kill_ them.

"_Try_ being the operative word there," she responded lightly.

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. "So we _do_ encounter them," he deduced. Her expression took on an air of studied innocence, she was determined not to reveal _everything_ she knew, only giving him irksome hints and glimpses. He shook his head. "Your face is easy to read, how long will we be imprisoned for?" he asked resignedly.

She looked somewhat annoyed – probably because he was guessing rightly, he assumed. "What makes you think we will be imprisoned?"

One eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. "I know Thranduil of old, he would not look upon our quest with favour and would do all he could to stop us," he said in a tight voice. His hand clenched into a fist, remembering the last time he had seen the Elf-king well over a century ago, looking down from the safety of a high ridge as Erebor burned beneath him.

"We will escape easily enough, Elves are not the brightest of creatures despite all of their wisdom and grace," she said, still sounding disgruntled that he had managed to draw so much from her. "I've told you, we'll reach the mountain just fine, that's all you need to know at the moment."

"The idea of walking straight into the hands of Elves and spiders does not sit well with me," he said honestly. It was something of an understatement in fact, since he was liking this route they must apparently take less and less.

"At least you now have some idea what to expect," she countered logically, favouring him with a small smile. "For instance, I know that we come dangerously close to running out of food and water, so now we know to ration our provisions carefully." The kitten started squirming in her hands and she put it down on the floor, where it scampered away back to its family. "You'd be doing it blind if I wasn't here," she finished, straightening up.

Thorin stilled. _If she wasn't here … _he mused slowly. But she was here and her very purpose was to change things. From their conversation on the Carrock he had realised that she was only going to change certain events, ones that apparently occurred towards the end of their quest, citing that anything else would have a ripple-effect. Yet he had also noticed that she was not confident in her ability to save his nephews, the one thing she was apparently determined to prevent and that worried him. He did not like that everything was mapped out in a path leading towards this unsatisfactory end, one that she was not confident she could change

Perhaps a ripple-effect was just what they needed.

"Go get some sleep," he ordered suddenly, preoccupied as he gazed down at the map detailing the two roads through Mirkwood once more. If they were to take a different road than the Elf-path then the risk would be substantial, not just for the journey, but for the whole outcome of the quest – they would be doing it blind, as she said.

He knew that he would become King if he followed her story and advice, meaning that there was indeed a way that Smaug could be killed and Erebor reclaimed, even if she had yet to share it with him. But even if they did change everything she knew, she must still have the knowledge of _how_ they defeated the dragon and perhaps that part of her story could still be replicated.

He drummed his fingers on the table. He had always been sure of his path in life, but now the road was unclear.

Which was more likely to save his nephews while still working to reclaim the mountain, changing everything or _attempting_ to change one thing?

Miss Darrow had raised her eyebrows at his rather abrupt dismissal and got to her feet with very deliberate movements. "Well, good night to you too," she said pointedly, a bite of sarcasm in her voice to show her mild displeasure at his sharp manner.

Thorin ignored her as she sashayed away back towards where the company was still gathered around the dying fire, taking a seat on the floor beside Fili and Kili. His nephews smiled at her and within minutes she was casually sitting braced against Fili with her bare feet in Kili's lap as she listened to their singing with a small smile.

Two roads, two possible routes before them. One that had known perils that they would encounter and yet would emerge from alive, and one that was possibly less perilous yet had no guarantee of success. One that would continue to follow Miss Darrow's story to it's unsatisfactory end and one that would change everything. The path that Beorn, Gandalf and his advisor wanted him to take coming into conflict with his original plan. The known element or the risk of greater danger.

The words of the company's song drifted over towards him in the darkness.

_"The wind came down from mountains cold,_

_ and like a tide it roared and rolled;_

_ the branches groaned, the forest moaned,_

_ and leaves were laid upon the mould."_

And then, gazing down at the map of the Wilderland, a new idea came to him.

* * *

**The title of this entire fic actually comes from the songs the Dwarves sing in this chapter. Bonus points to anyone who can guess Thorin's idea.**

**Reviews and most welcome, for this weeks question … is there a ship that you absolutely can't stand?**

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**Hugs to you all!**


	22. Crowned with flowers

**"That the last two letters in her name were the first two in his, a silly thing he never mentioned to her but caused him to believe that they were bound together."**

**_Unaccustomed Earth, _****Jhumpa Lahiri**

* * *

Lizzy woke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming through the high windows and puddling on the floor. It was the first time in weeks that she had slept in, not having to be up to break camp at the crack of dawn, and the feeling of being cocooned in warm blankets was nothing short of luxurious. Blinking herself to wakefulness, she sat up and stretched with her hands interlocked above her head, arching her back (the cuts between her shoulders protesting mildly, but not as bad as yesterday) and feeling more rested than she had in weeks.

Disentangling herself from her sleeping-bag, she got to her feet and looked around her. All of the Dwarves were still asleep and she realised that it must actually have been earlier than she thought. She glanced towards the table, half expecting to see Thorin still there, hunched and brooding over the map. The table was empty, with only a candle burnt down to a stub to mark the place they had spoken last night.

Glancing back down at the sleeping Dwarves, she did a quick head count and realised that Thorin was not among them, nor was there any sign of Gandalf; the great double doors were standing open and they were no where to be seen.

One of the grey dogs from last night came trotting towards her with its tail wagging as she descended from the low platform they had slept upon.

"Hey there, boy," she said, crouching down to rub around its ears and down its back in greeting. "Is there any food?"

She hadn't actually been expecting any reply to her rhetorical question but the dog bounded excitedly away down the hall, pausing to turn around and see if she was following. Bemused, Lizzy followed it through a set of doors and into a gigantic pantry and kitchen with a big work-table in the centre. A clay oven stood at the far end, along with another open fireplace big enough to heat a kettle and large pot simultaneously. There were numerous wooden shelves spanning around the walls, all of them laden down with fruit and vegetables, small earthen-ware pots of honey and jam, fresh bread, cheese and cream. Beneath the shelves were several barrels. When she investigated them she found that the three largest contained flour, oats and sugar, whereas a much smaller barrel revealed the greatest bounty of all: she prised open the lid and her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the heavenly smell of coffee beans.

Positively beaming, she thought for a moment and then hurried from the room back to the sleeping platform with the dog scampering along at her heels. She quickly located the biggest pile of blankets and knelt down beside them. "Bombur, Bombur wake up," she whispered.

Bombur groaned and rolled over at her, blinking as he woke up. "G'morning, lass," he said around a yawn.

"Come on, I have a surprise for you," she said, still smiling. She had hesitated over waking him, but knew how much he prized his place as the company's cook. Whenever they had restocked on their provisions he had always been eager to make the best meals he could out of their limited fare.

The large Dwarf grumbled and groaned about having been woken up the whole time he was shaking off his blankets and following her down the hall. The second he clapped eyes on the pantry his face brightened as if she had presented him with the sun itself, all traces of sleepiness gone. Lizzy's smile widened, knowing she had made the right decision in waking him.

He set about exploring the shelves, taking various items down and placing them on the table. "Pity there isn't any sausages or bacon," he said musingly as he continued to look around.

The dog, which had followed them back to the pantry, immediately snarled loudly. "I'm sure we can make do without," Lizzy said in a placating tone, laying a calming hand on the dogs raised hackles.

Bombur hadn't seemed to notice the dogs growling, still investigating the food on offer. "Flour, bread, jam … are there any eggs?" he asked, looking around.

The dog barked and Lizzy looked down at it. "You know where the eggs are?" she questioned, having already realised just how intelligent Beorn's animals were. The dog barked once more and nudged her in the direction of the door. "I'll be right back," Lizzy said to Bombur with a laugh as she was guided away.

The dog trotted ahead of her out of the open doors and into the sunny courtyard. They went around the wings of the house until they came to the cluster of low, wooden barns and sheds. Hearing clucking, she realised she was being led to a chicken-coop attached to a small, dusty yard where hens were pecking away at grains that had been scattered for them. Her new canine friend went up on its hind legs and rested both paws on a hatch on the chicken-coop, investigating it with its nose.

Lizzy opened the hatch and saw dozens of eggs lying in little nests of straw, clearly freshly laid since some of them were still warm to the touch. She grinned at the sight, having only ever bought eggs from the supermarket and never collected them fresh herself before. Using the hem of her t-shirt as a make-shift basket, she picked up as many as she could carry and slowly started heading back towards the house, humming 'How do you like your eggs in the morning?' under her breath as she went, the dog trotting along at her heels.

As she headed around the extended wing back towards the main house she encountered Thorin entering the courtyard as well. "Oh, good morning," she said in a sunny tone. "Bombur and I are making breakfast."

"So I see," he replied, his eyes lowered to the narrow strip of her stomach revealed by the numerous eggs she was carrying in her shirt.

She looked at him, taking note of the deep creases in his forehead. The previous night, as they had sat at the table and talked by the flickering light of the candle, she had realised for the first time just how old he looked. While still being handsome, his face was marked by stern lines around his eyes and mouth, and the few grey streaks in his dark hair were prominent.

"What were you doing?" she asked curiously, since he had been returning to the house from the fields when they'd met.

"With our host still absent, I checked the perimeter the moment the sun was up," he replied shortly, his gaze now on her face.

"I told you, we will be fine here," she told him, giving him a slightly deprecating look.

His mouth tightened in response; she noticed the shadows under his eyes and the way he was fairly vibrating with tension. "Did you sleep?" she questioned further, concern edging into her voice.

Thorin's silence was reply enough; no doubt he had spent all night brooding over his maps despite her assurances that they would be fine (for the most part) on the Elf-path. She sighed when it became apparent that he wasn't going to respond. "Come and have some food, how do you like your eggs?" she said, starting to walk towards the house again.

He fell into step beside her as they entered the house. "Fried, not poached – and mind you don't break the yokes," he ordered with all the hauteur of the King that he was.

Lizzy raised her eyebrows. "And just for that arrogant comment you can make them yourself, your _majesty_."

Thorin shot her a sharp look, but didn't otherwise reply.

Several of the other Dwarves were stirring in their bedrolls and were quickly solicited in helping with breakfast, with Ori, Fili and Kili bringing out the large baskets of bread, pots of hot porridge and trays of honey and jam that Bombur had whipped up in scant minutes to set the table.

Lizzy's first priority was attending to the coffee she had found in the pantry. While she did not consider herself to be a caffeine-junkie she had not had a cup of coffee since leaving Bilbo's house several months ago. Using a pestle and mortar, she attacked the beans with eager ferocity until they were ground down. She then stirred the powder into water that had been freshly boiled over the fire and strained it with a cloth to get rid of the powder bits, before proudly emerging with a fresh jug of coffee, much to the pleasure of the company.

The previous night had revealed just how divided the company was over her and her acceptance into the Firebeard clan. The younger Dwarves (Fili, Kili and Ori) were uncaring, whereas the fiercest advocates against her were Balin, Dwalin and Dori. As for the rest of the company, Oin had not mentioned an opinion other than his initial surprise and uneasiness when Bifur had first made her the offer, probably out of compassion for her injuries; she had charmed Gloin into supporting her by coyly revealing that his young son Gimli would become one of the most well-known and respected Dwarves in Middle Earth, to the extent that most people even in her world knew his name; and Nori had yet to make his views known either way, sitting on the metaphorical fence and examining everyone else's opinions.

Therefore it came as no surprise to her when she cheerfully offered Dwalin a cup of coffee and his response was to give her a withering look before stalking out of the hall.

Luckily, only Bofur had taken note of this interaction. "He'll come around," he said softly and reassuringly with a small smile.

"It's Dwalin, the guy is built like a brick shit-house," Lizzy said, still looking out of the door after him. "I don't think anything can sway him from a course once he sets his mind to it."

Bofur was giving her a highly bemused look. "You talk in such a strange way sometimes."

Lizzy wrinkled her nose at him, knowing this to be true in comparison to the Dwarves of Middle Earth: Fili and Kili in particular had picked up a few colloquialisms from her the past few months and hearing them occasionally using words like 'dude' and 'cool' in the midsts of their relatively formal manner of speech was nothing less than hilarious. "You're realising this about me now?"

"No, but I felt that it was worth mentioning again," he said with a grin. He then noticed her eyes drifting back to the open door. He put his hand consolingly on her shoulder. "The best way to approach Dwalin is head on, to show him that you won't be cowed."

"Easier said than done," she replied with a grimace.

"Besides, you have Thorin on your side, which will help," Bofur added.

Lizzy looked at him in surprise. _Was_ Thorin on her side? He hadn't exactly spoken out against her, but he also hadn't seemed wildly enthusiastic about the idea either. She glanced over to where the Dwarf King was sitting at the table, slightly separate from the others and toying with a plate of at least six eggs with his fork without actually eating a bite.

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment and then put her coffee down undrunk. "I'll be right back," she said to Bofur before darting across the room to grab her bag and sword and headed out of the door after Dwalin.

She found him sitting out on the veranda sharpening one of his many weapons. Steeling herself, she walked right up to him and waited until he deigned to look up and acknowledge her. After a long moment he did so, his gaze flicking up to pierce her with a look that clearly said _go away_.

"Will you help me with some more sparring moves?" she asked him as a precursor to a proper conversation.

Her only reply was a thoroughly disdainful look.

"Please?" she added.

He climbed to his feet with wordless resignation and led her out onto the grass, some distance from the house. They started by going over every drill move he had taught her over the past few weeks and then he put them in long sequences, far longer than she was used to. He would rattle off the numbers once and then refuse to repeat them, saying that these moves had to be instinctual and that she couldn't rely on someone shouting numbers at her. She wordlessly did as he commanded as best she could, not rising to challenge his tone.

They practised strenuously for at least half an hour and she had spoken barely a single word beyond asking him to spar, not sure of how best to broach the issue. The sunshine had grown hot and she had a film of sweat covering her entire body. This didn't feel like practice, this felt like a punishment.

She just about snapped when he ordered her to go faster for the fourteenth time. "I'm trying to avoid hurting my back more," she said with forced calmness. Their session had left a burning between her shoulder-blades and she suspected one or two of the cuts might have reopened.

"You think Orcs and Goblins would give two lumps of coal about your back?" he growled in response, looking very unimpressed with her. "They would exploit any weakness they could,"

"I realise that," Lizzy said between clenched teeth, swinging her sword purposefully slowly into one of the drill moves. "But don't you think that they will take longer to heal if I strain them?"

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you led us into Goblin-town," Dwalin retorted bitterly

"I knew that we would be fine," she answered back, feeling the argument that had been brewing since yesterday starting

"You endangered us all!"

"I _knew_ that we would be _fine_!" she snapped, no longer practising and facing off against him. Despite Dwalin far outweighing her when it came to bulk and muscle, she was pleased that she could at least look him in the eye with their similar heights.

"_Fine_? Did you not see Thorin's battle with Azog?"

"Of course I did, but -"

"Have you no _compassion_, woman?" he snarled, his voice rising to a bellow. "He nearly lost his life!"

"I am trying to _save_ his life," she yelled back at him without thinking.

Silence followed.

Lizzy's mouth was hanging open at the words she hadn't intended to speak. Dwalin was staring at her in surprise, their argument halted in its tracks. "I shouldn't have said that," she whispered to herself.

"Thorin is going to die?" Dwalin repeated seriously, his voice now quiet with horror.

"Shit, I should _not_ have said that," she said, dropping her sword to the ground and covering her face with both hands.

"And you're trying to save him … Is that why Gandalf bought you here?" she heard him deduce, probably still looking at her in shock.

"I – sort of," she said, lowering her hands and biting her lip fiercely. She had already decided that she was _going_ to save Fili and Kili, as she had told Thorin, but she really wasn't sure if she could save him too. It wasn't just the Battle of the Five Armies, there was the gold-sickness to consider as well; the issues Thorin faced towards the end of the story were physiological as well physical. Pride, greed, arrogance … all of them led to his downfall.

_Could_ she save him?

Tasting blood in her mouth, she realised that in biting her lower lip she had reopened the cut there. She dabbed her tongue to the cut and met Dwalin's eyes once more. "Could probably use some help though," she finished, half raising one shoulder.

The Dwarf in front of her was breathing deeply, clearly unsettled by what she had accidentally revealed. "How? How does he – how does it happen?" he asked, the first time she had ever seen the stoic and taciturn Dwalin stumbling for words.

She shook her head. "I – I'll tell you closer to the time, he is fine for now though," she said.

Dwalin looked like he was about to argue, but in that moment Fili and Kili burst out of the great doors and onto the veranda, laughing at some joke. He closed his mouth and gave her a serious, penetrating look. "We're done for the day," he grunted, picking up her dropped sword and handing it to her before starting back towards the house.

"Don't tell him," she called after him, Naethring hanging limply from her grasp. Dwalin turned back to look at her. "_Promise_ me you won't tell him."

His gaze was appraising. He nodded once sharply, and then left her out on the grass.

Lizzy exhaled a shaky breath, the taste of blood still in her mouth. She awkwardly sheathed her sword and picked up her pack, which she had bought along with the intention of washing her clothes in the river. The Dwarves out on the veranda ignored her as she disappeared deeper into one of Beorn's meadows, at the bottom of which was a small river and a few trees.

She felt like she was walking a very dangerous line. She had no idea how much of her knowledge to reveal and how much to keep hidden, knowing that a single misstep on her part could result in the failure of the whole quest and possibly even change the fate of Middle Earth. And with Thorin demanding that she give him details of the quest, things felt like they were getting more and more complicated by the day.

A very dangerous line to walk indeed.

* * *

Realising that there was no way he was going to eat, Thorin pushed his untouched plate of cold eggs away from him and sighed. Most of the company had already left the table and were drinking tea and coffee out on the veranda, but he felt no desire to join them at the present. The previous night he had retired shortly after the rest of the company, but had lain awake until he eventually got up and returned to the table to pour over the maps by the light of a single candle.

In the dark hours of the morning he had heard a queer snuffling and scratching at the door, accompanied by low growls. Thinking it was Beorn in bear-form, he had stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching and waiting, debating whether to open the door and confront the creature. After a few moments the noise went away and the rest of the night was silent save for the company's snores.

The source of his preoccupation had been an idea that had occurred to him a few hours back, one that was risky in the extreme. To the far north, near to the Grey Mountains, was a small Dwarf colony, all that remained of one of the seven Dwarf kingdoms. The Grey Mountains were near overrun with Goblins in places: indeed, recent accounts from the envoys he had met with several months back said that the Goblin attacks and raids on the colony were common, to the extent that they were considering abandoning the stronghold all together,

However, the fortress of Ered Mithrin was a located in a small cluster of mineral-rich mountains slightly separate and south of the main mountain range; the stronghold was built deep into the mountain and was nigh impenetrable. A tributary for what would eventually become the Forest River of Mirkwood sprung from within the mountain, and aside from the main doors, one of the only ways in or out of the mountain was the cave through which the river flowed, blocked and guarded by a water-gate.

If they were to go north then they could acquire boats and sail down the Forest River, which was deep and swift, thereby avoiding the spiders and enchanted stream.

The one caveat of the plan (aside from completely altering from the course Miss Darrow wanted them to take) was that the river would still bring them dangerously close to the Elven-king's halls. Yet he had also noticed that the river divided into two around the mountainous region in which Thranduil had made his kingdom: it was _possible_ that they would be able to slip around the second branch of the river unnoticed and unhindered.

It was a risk indeed, but it definitely beat the certain capture that awaited them on the Elf-path.

Thus far, it was the best option he could see before them. Going round the south of the forest would take too long, they would miss the window of opportunity Durin's Day gave them to get into the mountain. Likewise, skirting around the top of the forest and approaching Erebor from the north was dangerous in the extreme: while they were far enough away from Gundabad to be safe so long as they were careful, that road would bring them far too close to the Withered Heath and the nesting places of dragons.

However he knew that Gandalf would likely not approve of his plan, yet by his own words he was soon to leave the company. If he left them either at Beorn's or before they were supposed to enter the forest then they could continue north with the Wizard being none the wiser.

As it was, there was an easy way he could find out when exactly the Wizard left them.

A decision made, he quickly rose from the near empty table and strode towards the doors. He had expected to find Miss Darrow out on the veranda with the others, with her having been one of the first to exit the hall, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"She went towards the river, in case you're wondering," Dwalin said with a grunt. He was sitting to one side, separate from the rest of the company, and tending to one of his weapons with his eyes lowered.

Thorin looked at his friend curiously. He had never made much effort to acknowledge their advisor beyond the sparring lessons he had requested he give her, and had made his dissatisfaction with her new adoption perfectly clear to all. Dwalin had also been one of the ones alongside him in his disapproval of the easy relationship that had quickly formed between her and his nephews, yet now he was telling him where to find her without even being prompted.

"Thank you," he replied brusquely, inclining his head at his friend before descending from the veranda and making his way into the fields that made up Beorn's lands.

It was not long before he found the small, bubbling river Dwalin had spoken of, no doubt a tributary from the grassy lands beyond that would eventually run to join the Anduin. It was located at the bottom of a small, grassy meadow filled with clover and daisies, flanked by a small clump of trees.

Hanging from the branches of the trees were numerous items of clothing, all of them dripping wet and clearly recognisable as hers. He found her not far away, asleep in a bright patch of sunshine and wearing the short dress she had worn in Rivendell that was the precise colour of the sky above them, her sword and pack by her side.

Not wanting to wake her just to ask about the Wizard, Thorin sat down a few feet away. Really, he should have left her to her sleep and simply spoken to her later, but he told himself that he should keep watch over her, and so he stayed.

* * *

Lizzy woke from her unintentional nap to the rasping of a whetstone over metal, a sound that was both familiar and comforting since it was commonplace around their camps. After furiously washing her clothes in the river, trying to scrub away the lingering evidence of both several weeks travel and their excursion into Goblin-town, as well as purging herself from the emotions that were roiling after her conversation with Dwalin, she had lain down in the meadow for a moments relaxation. She must have fallen asleep because now, blinking against the brightness of the August sunshine, she noticed Thorin sitting in the grass not far away, his eyes trained on his sword. She smiled slightly at the sight.

"You should not wander alone," he said in a low voice, having no doubt noticed her stirring. He did not raise his gaze to hers, focusing on sharpening his blade. The bright sunlight did a better job of highlighting the careworn lines on his face than the candlelight had the previous night; she wondered how old he actually was, knowing that it was probably well over a century.

She half sat up so that she was propped on her elbows. "We are on Beorn's lands and I am in plain sight of the house," she replied, nodding her head towards the building.

Thorin tested the edge of his sword with his thumb. "With our host still absent I do not know how protected these boarders are."

"Well, _I_ do and I've told you, nothing will hurt us here," she reiterated, beginning to feel like a broken record. Sitting up and crossing her legs, she plucked a few daisies from the grass beside her.

"Of course," he said, his voice neutral. He was apparently dissatisfied with his sword edge, raising the whetstone once more and applying it to his sword that rested across his lap. The movements were clearly instinctual since he looked at her properly for the first time. "Nevertheless, you would do well to remain with the company, Elizabeth."

She smiled widely. "So you've remembered that I have a first name."

"I could go back to Miss Darrow, if you prefer."

"Elizabeth is fine," she said, shaking her head slightly. She started to split the stems of the daisies and slip them into each other to make a chain.

There was a brief silence between them, during which her daisy chain had grown to over a foot in length. The quiet was underlaid by the cheerful chirping of birds, the rasp of the stone and gurgling of the stream behind them, then Thorin spoke once more. "Your name sounds Dwarvish, you know."

She looked at him, having been appraising her red t-shirt where it hung on one of the branches while she worked on the flowers, noticing that there was still a brown blood stain on the back that had stubbornly refused to wash off. "What?"

"Darrow. It is similar to Dwarrow, the proper plural form of Dwarves," he said, his hand moving rhythmically along the length of his blade. "The true name for Moria is Dwarrowdelf, meaning Hall of the Dwarves, or Kahazd-dum, Delving of the Dwarves."

"So my last name basically means _Dwarves_?" she said, stunned by this – and by the fact that Thorin was sharing bits of Khuzdul with her, something extremely out of character for him. It was also strange that he had apparently sought her out for no other reason than her company and conversation: since leaving the river by the Carrock she had wondered if she had forced her friendship on him by inviting him to share stories about his past, but now here he was making an effort to be friendly with her in turn.

"Indeed," he replied, almost a grunt. Then he gave her a curious look. "Does your name mean anything in your world?"

Lizzy grinned hugely at this.

"What do you find amusing?" Thorin asked, his face darkening to a scowl at her bright smile.

"Nothing much, I've just realised something," she said, still fighting her grin and probably looking a bit like a mad woman.

"And what is that?" he questioned with a bite of impatience.

"Well, you asked me what my name means," she starting explaining. "Elizabeth means something boring like 'gods oath' or 'gods gift,' but Darrow … I have some Scottish roots, which is a country to the north of where I live, and in Celtic, which is their old language, Darrow actually means -" She broke off and chuckled, shaking her head. "I can't believe I've only just remembered this."

"Remembered _what_?"

Her smile widened at his annoyance. "Darrow actually means … oak tree," she told him, watching his reaction.

Thorin was staring at her with very wide eyes, a lighter blue than the clear skies above them. "Elizabeth … _oak tree_?" he repeated, sounding mildly stunned.

"Indeed, Thorin _Oakenshield_," she replied teasingly, with a grin that was nothing short of mischievous.

Then, for the first time since freeing him from the trolls, she saw the whiteness of his teeth flashing into a smile, one that was light and playful, seemingly taking years off his face. It was gone almost before she could see it, his face abruptly darkening once more.

"I am Thorin Oakenshield no longer," he said, his voice deep as he lowered his gaze to the sword in his lap.

She looked at him quizzically and he elaborated. "I no longer have the shield."

"Don't be ridiculous, that doesn't change anything," she told him, a crease appearing between her brows as she wrinkled her nose at him.

Thorin was silent.

"It doesn't change your identity and it doesn't change the fact that you faced down the Pale Orc with little more than a stick," she told him firmly, staring at him intently. "You are not defined by a … by a _prop_, not having the shield doesn't make you any less heroic."

He was still silent, but his expression had taken on a more thoughtful cast at her words.

"You know, I always took it as a metaphor," she added nonchalantly, returning to threading her daisies together.

That made him look at her. "A metaphor," he repeated, his voice dangerously neutral.

"When you first got the shield it was the only thing you had to protect you, now you have the company so you don't need it anymore," she elaborated, neglecting to add that she had only thought of the symbolism of the loss of the shield upon watching the movie for the second time: the first time she had been fighting back tears that had threatened to well up.

How strange it was that she was now living within the story she had loved so much.

"There are no metaphors in reality, Elizabeth," Thorin said with a slight, dismissive shake of his head. "Despite what you may believe, this is real life and is not just a story."

"Isn't everyone just a story in the end?" she put to him, plucking a few more flowers to lengthen her chain. "I just take it a little more literally in your case."

"I have a question regarding this story of yours," he put to her after another brief pause. Lizzy had the sudden impression that their whole conversation had been leading to this, that he hadn't just come out to join her for the pleasure of her conversation.

"I told you, I'm not telling you anything else about Mirkwood," she said with a frown.

"I do not wish to know about Mirkwood," he replied quickly, a hint of annoyance in his voice at her assumption. He raised his chin at her. "I want to know when Gandalf will leave us."

"Oh," she said, seeing no harm in revealing this. "At the forest gate."

"He does not enter the forest with us?" he questioned with a note of urgency, his gaze piercing.

She shook her head, bemused by his question. The movement caused her loose hair to fly into her eyes slightly – she had lost her hair tie in Goblin-town and knew she would be grumbling about not having it tied back when they started travelling again.

Thorin was silent once more, deep in thought. "Was that … all?" she asked inquisitively, looping the chain of daisies together to make a circle.

"Aye," he replied dismissively.

The silence between them rapidly became awkward, with Thorin looking northwards with eyes narrowed against the sun, his expression pensive. Lizzy wasn't sure what to say, how to restart the conversation with him so consumed by his own thoughts all of a sudden. As such, she decided to leave him to his brooding.

"Okay … well, I think I'm going to go help Bombur with lunch," she said with forced cheeriness as she fiddled with her daisy chain, yet got no reply from the Dwarf king.

In an action that she couldn't quite explain to herself, she lent forward and placed the daisy-chain circlet on his head, not noticing the way he flinched slightly at the action. She then climbed to her feet, grabbing her sword and pack, leaving her clothes drying on the trees.

"I'll see you later," she said over her shoulder as she started walking, leaving the king crowned with flowers sitting in the grass behind her.

* * *

Thorin remained very still as she walked away from him, much in the same way that a deer would freeze upon sensing a predator. He didn't think that he had ever been so wrong-footed or staggered in his whole life when she had placed the flowers on his head – not even when she had handed him the key to Erebor early the previous morning.

_By Mahal, that girl excels at surprising me,_ he thought, tentatively reaching up to touch to flowers encircling his head.

In Dwarvern culture flowers were considered to be a great gift, sentimentally worth more than gold or gemstones: in some on the mountainous regions they inhabited it was nigh impossible to get fresh flowers, hence their value.

As such, they were considered serious symbols of courting.

Due to the scarcity of Dwarf women it was not uncommon for a woman to be courted by several Dwarves at once before settling on a husband. A gift of flowers was often seen as a symbol of a woman's favour, that she preferred them above all other suitors.

_Does she see me as a suitor?"_ he wondered with mild horror. Not once in his life had he considered marriage, in fact he was certain that he would never marry – he had Fili and Kili as his heirs, along with Dain as well. Besides, if she was to be courted by any of them surely it would be Fili or Kili, despite their assertion that they saw her as a sister.

But no, he was being ridiculous, he realised with some relief, pulling the chain off his head and being careful not to break it. She was from another world and did not understand their customs. No doubt she had no idea what she was doing in presenting him with flowers.

Not wishing to follow her inside, he sheathed his sword and begun pacing the perimeter of Beorn's lands, his thoughts consumed by both her and the path they would take. There was still no sign of their host anywhere aside from a few bear tracks he had found in the soft mud. He circled the entire boundary twice and it was late afternoon by the time he returned to the hall. Upon his arrival he found Oin and Gloin pushing one of the big tables out of the door and setting it out on the veranda. Bombur had solicited Bilbo and Miss Darrow – _Elizabeth_, he reminded himself once more – to help him with the cooking for dinner and there was a heavenly scent spilling out of the kitchen.

Their dinner was a merry one that night, despite his preoccupation and both Gandalf and their host's absence. Fili and Kili had found numerous barrels of honey-mead stored in one of the barns and so both conversation and laughter was loud for the most part among the company, with Thorin sitting largely silent at the head of the table.

The candles burnt down low as the evening wore on and moths started fluttering around them. Second and third helpings were eaten and dessert was bought out; sweet-spice biscuits, honeycomb and light little cakes that had been freshly baked that afternoon.

Their party was so cheerful that they did not notice the shadows lengthening ominously in Beorn's garden as they ate and drank, nor did they mark the sky turning deep red as the sun sunk slowly down behind the Misty Mountains.

* * *

**This was actually a chapter idea that was planned before I'd even started writing, when I was coming up with Lizzy as an OC, in particular her name. **

**It also predates the tumblr flower crown phase, if you'll believe it!**

**In other news, I booked my plane tickets to Australia the other day! I am spending a year abroad, travelling around Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and America. Only 50 days till I depart! :D**

**Reviews are welcome!**

**For this weeks question, do you have any headcanons about Dwarf (or any other race) culture that you'd like to share? Like the flower thing?**

**You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr ~_kindle-the-stars_**


	23. Certain discrepancies

"_**Never judge a book by its movie."**_

**J. W. Eagan**

* * *

Lizzy was in a good mood: she was full of excellent food, sweet tasting drink, and surrounded by lively conversation. Even the Dwarves who had been somewhat reticent with her the past few days had softened with their consumption of numerous tankards of Beorn's delicious honey-mead, with Dori momentarily forgetting he was angry with her and politely asking her if she wanted more potatoes, and Balin giving her an amused sort of half smile when she had cracked a joke. The only metaphorical black cloud over the summer evening was Thorin sitting at the head of the table: Lizzy thought she had left him in reasonably good spirits after their conversation in the meadow, but he was now brooding at the top of the table and occasionally sending inscrutable looks her way that she didn't understand.

She was beginning to mentally classify her relationship with Thorin as 'two steps forward, one step backwards.' It seemed like whenever they made progress towards being amicable something happened to mess it up, only for the life of her she couldn't think what she could possibly have done to annoy him since leaving the meadow.

The light was fading and they were just finishing up dessert when they saw Gandalf half running across the courtyard towards them, looking back over his shoulder with one hand holding his staff and the other securing his hat to his head. He saw them with their meal sprawled out on the veranda and he doubled his pace.

"You fools, what did I tell you about being out after nightfall?" the Wizard said quickly as he leapt onto the veranda in just a few steps.

The company was bewildered, but that lasted only a second as they heard a sudden roar echoing over the meadow. Looking out in unison, they saw a vast black shape moving swiftly among the trees near to the river she had been sitting beside earlier.

"Quick, into the house!" Gandalf said urgently, his hands flapping as he urged a frozen Bilbo to move. "Quickly now!"

They scarped, knocking over benches as they moved and scrambled towards the door. They piled inside and Lizzy found herself shoved firmly further into the hall, away from the heavy doors that were being pushed shut. The entire company had gone from relaxed to battle-ready in seconds and she was left with her heart pounding.

For a moment it looked like they would be fine, but just as the doors were about to close something slammed into them with all the force of a wrecking ball, attempting to push them open again with vicious snarls. The Dwarves all put their shoulders to the door, fighting against the strength of the great bear a few scant feet away. Beside her, Bilbo bravely drew his sword and Lizzy looked stupidly around for Naethring, then remembered she had left it out on the veranda with her pack after returning from the meadow.

The bear pushed harder against the door and she caught a glimpse of huge, sharp teeth and a black nose as it forced its muzzle through the gap. With grunts of effort, the Dwarves rammed their shoulders into the door, finally managing to push it closed so that Gloin could bolt the great latch that was almost out of their reach. The snarling and scratching continued until they barred the door as well, dropping a thick plank of wood into the iron supports on either side of the door, whereupon everything went eerily silent.

The only noise for a good minute or so was the pants and gasps of the company as they caught their breath. Then, on some unseen signal, everyone turned to Gandalf and started asking questions.

"Silence, one question at a time," the Wizard said, looking undeniably harried by their sudden inquisition.

"And where have you been, if I may ask," Thorin put to him when the company fell quiet, at the same time as Bilbo repeated his flabbergasted question of, "Was that _Beorn_?" so that they were once more talking over each other, the Hobbit still holding his sword awkwardly.

"Yes, Mr Baggins, that was Beorn in his bear form. And Thorin, I have been picking out bear-tracks," he said to the group at large, sitting down on one of the low benches and patting his robe in search of his pipe, which he then preceded to light as if they were still enjoying a summer evening and weren't catching their breath after just been attacked by a giant bear. "As you know, Thorin, I set off at first light," he continued and Thorin nodded in acknowledgement of this. "After our host left I thought it best to follow him this morning. His tracks led westwards towards the Misty Mountains and, after many miles, towards the Carrock. I believe he intended to verify our story," the Wizard finished with a puff of smoke from his mouth.

"Then why was he attacking us?" Bilbo asked, his face crumpled in displeasure and confusion. "And what if he leads the wargs and Goblins back _here_?"

"I assure you, Mr Baggins, he will do no such thing. Your wits must be sleepy for you even to have thought of it," Gandalf said, looking at the Hobbit from beneath his bushy brows. "Beorn attacked us because we were out on his lands after nightfall and because I had been following him, thus he must have believed me to be a threat."

"But he _knows_ us," Lizzy put in, having recovered from her shock and was now considering the implications of what had just happened – an attack which had most certainly _not_ occurred in the book.

"In that form he is very instinctual, there is less thought and more feelings," he replied, sending smoke winding up to the ceiling. "Have no fear, he will not try and enter the house again now that the door is shut, however I am not sure how much longer our welcome will last. We had best get some rest, we will be departing in the morning."

This announcement was met with a few grumbles: the attack may have shaken them, but Beorn's home was still warm and filled with food and it was clear several of them had wanted to stay slightly longer than one day.

Lizzy waited for several long minutes as the Dwarves finished their conversations and started to disperse around the hall, most of them still casting wary looks at the bolted and barred doors. Finally, when all was quiet, she went to sit beside Gandalf. The Wizard was smoking serenely, looking very pleased with the smoke rings he had sent to dance among the rafters.

"That wasn't in the story," she said with soft urgency, trying not to draw attention to their conversation.

"You know that there are certain discrepancies between versions of the story that you know," he replied around the stem of his pipe.

_Bloody Peter Jackson_, Lizzy thought, and not for the last time either. "But if things like this _are_ going to change then I don't know what's going to happen," she reminded him, a note of agitation in her low voice.

"You know the essentials, that's enough to be getting along with, I think," he said jovially.

"Essentials," she snorted derisively "Almost being eaten by a giant bear-man should count as pretty _essential_, don't you think?"

Gandalf hummed in amusement at her annoyance, but didn't otherwise reply.

Lizzy smoothed the hem of her dress over her knees, lost in thought. It was one thing to know that events were going to change and quite another to see them actually changing. She felt wrong-footed and lost, swallowing a kind of nauseating anticipation that any moment could suddenly be different and she would have no way of knowing until it was too late.

If Beorn's house was different then she dreaded what they might face in Mirkwood. She thought she could handle the enchanted river and the Elves easily enough (in fact warning the Dwarves about Bombur falling into the stream would probably be a good idea, it was a small thing that wouldn't change much but would make the latter half of their journey significantly easier), but idea of facing giant spiders frankly terrified her.

If she remembered rightly, Thorin was caught by Elves before the others encountered the spiders; maybe she could manoeuvre events so that she somehow got herself captured with him so that she wouldn't have to face them.

Then of course, all the way at the other end of the forest and through Lake Town, there was Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies to consider as well.

"Do you think I should tell them?" she blurted out suddenly, making the Wizard turn and look questioningly at her. "About the battle, the Arkenstone, everything?"

"No, you have done right to keep future events a secret," Gandalf replied, his voice deep and thoughtful. He must have read something of the doubt on her face, since he continued, "Elizabeth, if Thorin knew that Bilbo was going to, for want of a better word, _steal_ the Arkenstone, how would he react?"

She thought about this for a moment, glancing over to where Thorin was sitting smoking with Balin and Dwalin in the near darkness. She knew that Thorin had a volatile temper and, if what was written in the book was true, the Arkenstone was dearer to him than his own heart. "He'd probably leave Bilbo behind, he would certainly never trust him again," she said with a sad sigh of realisation.

"Exactly, and Bilbo's presence is something that both Thorin and this company sorely needs," Gandalf said. "You must let events unfold on their own and I am trusting you to do so in my absence."

She nodded slowly, still looking towards Thorin. He was half-reclining in his chair with his feet resting on the fender, seemingly looking at the flames with one hand cradled around the bowl of his pipe. The light flickered and caught in his eyes, and Lizzy was reminded of him leaning over the fireplace at Bag End as he sung softly, many months ago at the very start of their journey.

"There is something else troubling you," the Wizard observed, having been watching her with knowing eyes.

She bit her lip, letting it drag through her teeth for a moment before she spoke, still looking at Thorin. "When you first brought me here you said that the fact Dain became King troubled you, and that was what you wanted me to change. I … I _think_ I can save Fili and Kili, I'll just get Thorin to forbid them to fight in the battle, but ..."

"But?" he prompted as she trailed off.

She turned to look at him, something akin to desperation in her voice. "I know there's the gold-sickness and I don't know _what's_ going to happen with Azog in the picture, but … do you think I can save him too?"

There was a long silence.

"... No," Gandalf said eventually, looking at her seriously from beneath the brim of his hat.

Her lips parted in surprise, not having expected such a blunt response from the Wizard. "_No_?" she repeated, turning her head to look at Thorin once more, her eyes wide.

"Thorin must curb his greed and his pride if he is to both succeed and live to be King. While his fate is not yet set in stone, it is not something that you yourself can easily change," Gandalf explained consolingly, following her gaze with a very pensive expression. As they watched, Balin said something to Thorin and the dour King almost smiled in response, his face expressive in its carved lines.

"Isn't there anything I can do?" she asked softly, a fierce ache welling in her at the thought of his death.

"You cannot save him, Elizabeth," Gandalf said, resting one hand gently on her shoulder. "But, if he tries, perhaps he can save himself."

* * *

Some hours later, when Balin and Dwalin had retired to their bedrolls after their smoke and conversation beside the fire, Thorin looked around the hall for Elizabeth Darrow, hoping she hadn't also gone to bed. He found her sitting in the same shadowy corner she had been trying to coax the cats from the previous night, several of the young kittens clambering in and around her lap. Her usually smooth brow was marred by a frown of contemplation as she absently stroked one of the cats, which arched into her hand. She had her legs crossed with her blue dress puddled on the floor around her, her bare feet just peeping out from beneath the material.

How strange it was that he now found himself uncaring about the impropriety of such clothing. Had he seen a Dwarf woman wearing such a thing he would have no doubt shunned her and avoided speaking or even looking at her, but Elizabeth was not attempting to be provocative, she wore it with such guileless innocence that he couldn't condemn her for it.

As such, he found himself wondering about her world, the world in which it was acceptable for her to wear such things and even take a lover. A world where women were seemingly not as protected or respected by their men-folk. He had never given it very much thought before, but now, watching her from his position by the fire, he considered just how vast the cultural differences were between them.

For one thing, it was apparent that up until her arrival in Middle Earth she had never picked up, much less wielded, a weapon. Most Dwarves, including their women-folk, had a basic knowledge of weapons that was taught to them with along with their letters and numbers, even if they chose not to pursue it and train properly. Given her size and slenderness, along with his initial impression that a breeze could blow here over (an opinion he had since altered), he found it strange that she had been given no training whatsoever in self-defence. Maybe the perils in her world were different, battles to be fought with words rather than weapons.

Some Dwarf women were considered to be proud and aloof, haughty in their power to pick and choose between suitors, yet she was open and carefree, engaging with most of the company on an intimate level while only having known them a few months. She had always been determined to be treated equally by them and not receive preferential treatment that would be considered common courtesy towards women in their culture; she had given several members of the company tongue-lashings and cited a concept called _feminism_ when they'd tried to carry her bags or do her chores around the camp.

It must have been hard for her, he realised for the first time: not only was she finding her way in a whole new world, she was also navigating the swampy waters of a new culture and customs, one that was notoriously reticent when it came to their dealings with other races.

The light from the fire glinted on the silver hair-bead, the mark of her acceptance into the Firebeard clan: she had forged a place for herself in the company and he had no doubt that she would rise to the challenge and equally find her place within their clans, in spite of the opposition she would surely face. Her position here was a tough one, not holding the same material rewards and incentives to reclaim a homeland that it did for them. Despite her sarcastic remarks, occasional sulking and their few shouting matches, he thought she had handled her position in their world with impressive grace and he felt that he perhaps hadn't given her enough credit or respect.

As he watched, Fili walked passed her and silently handed her a fresh tankard of ale before leaving her to her solitude, receiving an absent smile of thanks in turn that momentarily smoothed the worried lines on her brow. Watching that simple, easy interaction, Thorin felt the smallest twinge of guilt for his initial condemnation of her easy friendship with Fili and Kili. It was something that had bought her pleasure at the start of their journey when she was essentially alone and separated from home.

Removing his feet from the fender, he got up and walked slowly across the hall towards her, stopping just short of her so that she was looking up into his face, her frown inexplicably deepening at the sight of him. "You said we would be safe here," he said quietly, so as not to disturb those who had already retired.

"We were _meant_ to be safe here," she replied swiftly, defensively, sounding more than a little annoyed at this apparent inaccuracy in her knowledge.

"But you were wrong," he put to her, standing with his thumbs stuck into his belt.

"I'm not infallible, Thorin!" she said, now definitely annoyed – it hadn't been his intention to cause an argument with her.

"I know, but ..." he sat down beside her, bracing his back against the wall she rested upon. "Things can change, things _are_ changing," he said, watching her reaction. She frowned in displeasure and the cat on her lap butted against her hand, demanding to be stroked.

When explaining ripple effects to him, Elizabeth had said that if you change one thing then all of a sudden everything would be different. During his conversation with Balin and Dwalin he had found himself wondering just how much things would change with his decision to take the company north to Ered Mithrin and if that had somehow caused Beorn's attack on them, an event which clearly hadn't been something she was expecting.

He also wondered what her reaction would be when he told her of their new route: as of yet, he hadn't shared his plan with any of the company, not wanting any of them to accidentally let something slip to Gandalf. He doubted that she would be best pleased with his decision.

Glancing at her, he caught her staring at him with her head tilted to one side, her loose hair cascading over one shoulder. She looked away quickly as they made eye contact, appearing somewhat preoccupied based on the purse of her lips and crease between her arched brows as she petted the purring kitten on her lap.

"What's wrong?" he asked curiously, sensing that something was troubling her. Since leaving the Carrock there had been a change in their interactions with each other, a conscious move on both of their parts to make an effort to be friends.

She looked back up at him, her eyes both sad and thoughtful. Most of the time Elizabeth was so full of life and energy, but right now she appeared pensive. It was moments like this, her expression holding a sombre knowledge, that he forgot just how young she was,.

She sighed deeply. "I'm going to bed," she said quietly, avoiding his question. She pressed her lips briefly to the squirming kittens fur and deposited it on the floor, before getting to her feet with her dress swaying around her knees. "Good night, Thorin" she added softly, looking down on him, and then padded away to the sleeping platform without another word.

Thorin remained seated on the floor for some time, deep in thought with his back braced against the wall, before he too decided to retire.

* * *

Once again, Lizzy was among the first to wake, having passed a rough night tossing and turning despite the relatively comfortable straw mattresses Beorn had provided for them. She had eventually settled some time in the small hours of the morning when the kitten she had befriended using copious amounts of cream had come and curled up beside her into a soothing, purring ball of warmth. Nevertheless, her dreams had been unsettling though she couldn't remember them in the light of the morning.

She rose from her sleeping bag, wrinkling her nose at the deep creases in her dress and disturbing the still sleeping kitten, which scampered away once it was awake. Last night she had been forced to sleep in her dress, having left her clothes outside drying and her pack on the veranda. She wondered what had happened to those clothes, if they'd still be there after Beorn's attack. Barefoot, she descended from the platform and a few of the dogs came up to say hello to her once more, their tails wagging and their tongues lolling out of their mouths.

She was kneeling down, busy giving one of the more persistent dogs a belly-rub when she was surprised by a deep, rolling voice behind her. "They like you."

Turning quickly on her knees, she saw Beorn looming over her, having approached on silent feet. He was still shirtless, proudly displaying his excessively hairy chest and heavy muscle. He crouched down next to her and also petted the dog affectionately. "I didn't mean to startle you," he added with a hint of a smile beneath his great beard.

"You're back," she said stupidly, recovering from her initial surprise.

"I was back last night, in case you didn't notice," he said with a wry and knowing look. "I hope I didn't frighten you, my lady."

"No, not at all," she lied with forced airiness.

Beorn smiled gently at her.

"Alright, yes, I was terrified," she corrected with a sheepish grin.

"I sometimes have little control in that form," he said – it was not an apology, it was an explanation.

"I understand," she told him, nodding at his words.

He nodded once in turn at her in acknowledgement and straightened, extending a large and calloused hand to help her to her feet also. "I believe these are yours," he said, gesturing to the table, where she noticed her clean clothes neatly folded along with her pack and sword resting against one of the carved legs.

"Yes, thank you," she said, blinking in surprise.

One of the dogs butted its head against Beorn's thigh, wanting attention. He stroked it around the ears. "They tell me that you have been playing with them and that you have befriended the cats," he said, not looking at her as he pulled gently on the dogs ears.

"I hope you don't mind," she said quickly, remembering that Gandalf had told her how protective Beorn was of his animals.

"Why would I mind?" he asked her with a note of bemusement in his rough voice. "They like you better than the Dwarves, though they say you smell strange."

"I take it that's not a compliment," she said, pursing her lips.

"It is what it is," Beorn said, looking at her both curiously and knowingly. His dark brown eyes seemed to see far too much. She found herself wondering if her other-worldly origins were so clearly visible, even after being in Middle Earth for some months now. "Have you eaten, my lady?" he added, finishing whatever appraisal she had just received from him.

"Not yet, no," she replied.

"Then come, join me. I'd like to hear more of your tales," he said, guiding her out onto the veranda where she found no evidence whatsoever of the carnage they had left the previous night. The benches were all the right way up, servicing a table that was positively laden down with breakfast fare.

It wasn't long before various members of the company started trickling out to join them in the early morning sunshine, some of them giving Beorn wary looks. When Bilbo stumbled out of the door, knuckling sleep from his eyes, Beorn laughed and poked him rather disrespectfully in the stomach, making the tiny Hobbit give the vast man a look of incredulous indignation. "Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on cream and honey," he chuckled, and then gestured at the table with a vast sweep of his hand. "Come and have some more!"

They all ate until they were full and listened to Beorn's account of his doings while he had been away. He told them that he had went to investigate the truthfulness of their story and now that he knew it was accurate thought that it was a very impressive one. He also promised them food, ponies and provisions for their trip to Mirkwood, something which significantly brightened the still-wary Dwarves outlook on the man.

Once they were finished they left the animals clearing the table and followed Beorn out of the courtyard to one of his large barns. He showed them his great stores of equipment and weaponry and they were all outfitted for the coming journey, with those who had lost packs being given new bags to store the numerous jars of preserved fruit and twice-baked breads that were to be their provisions during their travels through the forest. The morning was spent packing and preparing for their departure.

Lastly, he gave them bows as well, saying that they were useful to have even though he doubted they would find anything wholesome to eat within the bounds of Mirkwood.

"My very own bow?" Lizzy said as Kili distributed them around the company. The bow he handed her was light in both colour and weight, unadorned in its design. It was shaped in a single, gentle curve, unlike Kili's own sharply curved, almost angular bow.

"Made of maple wood, so it's very flexible," Kili said, examining it with a critical eye as he handed it to her. "Mine is yew, so it takes more strength to pull. You should actually find this easier to use since you aren't as strong." He handed her a quiver of finely fletched arrows as well. "They say it takes a dozen arrows to get used to a new bow, empty the quiver and see if you think it will suit you."

After asking Beorn's permission, she went outside and practised with the bow, using the side of one of the wooden outbuildings as a target while the Dwarves milled around packing their bags and provisions, listening to Beorn talk about the dangers of not drinking water in Mirkwood or straying from the path.

The bow was light and supple, easy to draw back without aggravating the wounds on her shoulders. It seemed to sit well in her hand and for the first time she realised just how heavy and sturdy Kili's bow was, almost unwieldy in its weight. Taking her stance, giving herself a moment to get used to the new bow in her hands, she fired the first arrow and was pleased with the speed in which it shot from the bow. Over the course of several minutes she emptied the quiver, shooting with surprising accuracy in comparison to her previous efforts.

Once she had finished she turned to Thorin, who was crouched on the floor a little way away from her, sorting through his bag. "Not bad, right?" she asked, gesturing to the wall in which the arrows were all clumped together in a circle about a metre in diameter – for the first time none of them had fallen short of the target and they had all landed reasonably close to where she had been aiming.

He gave it a critical, cursory glance and nodded once in acknowledgement. "Indeed. You have been learning for nearly two months now, it's about time you started shooting with some accuracy," he said, and then walked off to see to the borrowed ponies which were being laden with their bags.

Lizzy rolled her eyes and went to collect her arrows, pulling them out of the wood with difficulty. Kili came over to help her, checking each arrow to make sure she hadn't damaged the tips before replacing them in the quiver. "Forget all this 'under the mountain' business, your uncle is the king of the back-handed compliments," she said, yanking an arrow free with more vigour than was perhaps necessary.

Kili gave a short bark of laughter at this, then the two of them were called back over to the group. The ponies and Gandalf's borrowed horse had all been saddled and were ready to depart. It was barely mid-morning, but Thorin wanted to be on the road as soon as possible.

Beorn waited until they had checked they had all of their belongings and were all mounted up on their ponies before making his farewells, asking them to send back the ponies when they reached the Forest Gate and reminding them to neither stray from the path or drink water found in Mirkwood. "I wish you all speed and my house is open to you should you ever come this way again," he added with cheerful friendliness.

They thanked him with many an 'at your service,' but he ignored their thanks and approached Lizzy, who was trying to settle her rather feisty pony. Even though she was perched high on the pony and he was standing, Beorn still loomed high above her. He calmed the pony easily with a single hand resting on its neck and lightly took her hand, bowing over it. "Safe journey, my lady," he said in a voice low enough for just the two of them to hear, pressing her hand between both of his. "And should you ever tire of that Dwarf king of yours then you must return and we will have dozens of children to play with our animals."

She blinked at him – once, twice, three times – before glancing quickly at Thorin. "Thank you, I'll bear it in mind," she said in a rather choked and surprised voice, remembering how Beorn had considered her to be Thorin's _lady_ when they had first met.

The bear-man smiled at her from beneath his bushy beard and released her hand. He then nudged her pony gently on the rump, sending it trotting forward to meet with the others who were already starting to make their way across the meadow towards the gate. She glanced back at him just as she reached the edge of his meadows and he raised a hand in farewell, then he was lost to sight as the company turned northwards towards the Forest Gate of Mirkwood.

* * *

**Bad Thorin, he hasn't told Lizzy about his change of plans – she is not going to be happy!**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!**

**This is a question that I asked quite a while back, but now we are out of Goblin-town and have left Beorn's house, I am curious to see how people's opinions might have changed … what do people expect/want to see from Lizzy and Thorin's relationship?**

**You can also follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars. **


	24. The Forest-Gate

******"Different things can add up in different ways whilst reaching an identical solution, just as 'eleven plus two' forms an anagram of 'twelve plus one'****.********"****  
**_**Margot Gleave**_

* * *

It took them three days to reach the Forest Gate of Mirkwood and their journey was largely uneventful. Lizzy was reminded of the start of their quest, in which it had been all talking and pony-rides in the May sunshine on their way to Rivendell, only now there was a touch of coolness in the air that hinted towards the end of summer as August drew to a close. They felt refreshed after their stay at Beorn's and the company was in good spirits, galloping their ponies across the green, grassy plains and singing in the evenings.

For Lizzy, the most significant events of their journey to the forest occurred on their first night camping again and then the morning following. After tying up her hair as best she could without a hair-tie, she separated herself from the company to practice with her weapons, as had been her habit before crossing the mountains. She tested out her new bow once more, pleased with how much easier it was to use than Kili's; she was still far from perfect, but she felt that she was finally beginning to shoot with some precision and accuracy.

After emptying the quiver several times, she put the bow to one side and started practising with her sword. She did drill moves in slow motion, flowing easily from one move to another before starting to speed some of the sequences up. It was here that she began to falter, losing some of the smooth transitions from position to position as she increased her speed.

She was repeating one particularly tricky set of moves when she was interrupted – Thorin caught her sword on his own as she turned to bring it down into a slicing movement.

Lizzy looked at him in shock, not having heard him approach through the tall grass. She felt a flash of chagrin as they stared each other down, annoyed that he had managed to sneak up on her: one of the first things Dwalin had told her about fighting was that she had to be constantly aware of her surroundings.

"You are not putting enough power behind your moves," he said imperiously, lowering his sword and giving no explanation for his sudden presence while she was trying to practice. "Try again."

Feeling slightly awkward, she did as he said, this time swinging a little more vigorously. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"You leave yourself completely open when you swing that far back," he told her, pointing to her left side with the tip of his sword as she held the finished position for his scrutiny. "Don't swing from your back. You are small and fast, your fighting style shouldn't be strong hacking movements." He demonstrated with his own sword, his movements swift and sleek. "Try again."

She silently did so, mimicking him as best she could.

"Keep your arm loose, swing from the elbow," he ordered, watching her carefully.

Once again, she tried to modify her actions to accommodate his advice, doing the move three times before he nodded approvingly. "Again, stronger this time," he said once she had it right.

She repeated the move, going slowly to ensure it was perfect.

"Faster," he told her, his eyes on her blade.

She did the sequence a final time, apparently to his satisfaction. He then stepped back, raised his own still drawn sword into the ready position and looked at her expectantly.

"You want to spar with me?" she asked incredulously, speaking for the first time since his arrival. She glanced at the company, some way away, none of whom was paying any attention to them. Dwalin had told her that she needed to know the moves before she could spar with one of them, and so the only interaction she had experienced while fighting had been against the Goblins."You're going to disarm me in two moves," she added plaintively.

Nevertheless he retained his stance, his pale gaze now holding a hint of a challenge.

Resigning herself to the humiliation that was sure to come, she cautiously raised her sword. She and Thorin stared at each other for a long moment, neither attacking, before he swung towards her. Having seen him fight in Goblin-town, she recognised instantly that he was slowing himself down for her benefit. She managed to hold her own against him for all of three seconds before her sword was forced downwards by the flat of his, bringing their bodies close together with their blades between them.

In an instinctual move she swung her left hand, catching him full across the face with a loud and resonating smack.

He instantly grabbed her wrist as it connected with his cheek, looking at her in blatant shock.

She blinked several times into his face, thinking she was about to get the telling off of a lifetime but also amazed that she had managed to slip under his guard like that.

"I was not expecting that," he admitted, his brow furrowed into a frown of acute displeasure as he held her wrist in a grip that was almost too tight. "I underestimated you."

"Sorry," she blurted out, trying to tug her arm free.

He took a step backwards so that their bodies were no longer so close, nor their swords touching, but retained his hold on her wrist. "Do not apologise for reflexes that might save your life in battle," he said, looking down at her fingers. "Next time turn it into a punch. Make a fist," he ordered.

She did so, her wrist still encompassed by his hand. He indicated his disapproval. "Thumb on the outside," he corrected as she held Naethring limply and forgotten in her other hand. "If you do throw a punch then aim for the throat, nose or temple: avoid the mouth, you will only end up hurting your hand on their teeth."

He waited until she apparently had the right fist positioning, then released her wrist. "We will work on hand to hand combat as well as your other training, you never know when you might lose a blade in battle," he told her.

"Right," she said unenthusiastically, wondering when on earth she was going to find time to practice all three different types of fighting _and_ sleep as well, also feeling a little daunted at the idea of fighting lessons with Thorin.

She glanced sideways at him as she went to collect her bow. He had shed his large, fur-lined coat and left it back at the camp, and so the strength and breadth of his shoulders was clearly outlined by his dark blue tunic and armour. Remembering the injuries and bruises beneath his clothes that she had tended to a few days ago, she wondered how he was not in more pain. When her brother had acquired a rib injury he had lolled on the sofa for days claiming he could barely move, but Thorin was riding and walking around wearing his armour and carrying a pack that was heavy with provisions, belaying no hint of pain. She supposed Dwarves were hardier than humans, remembering how she and Bilbo would shiver by the fire when they had been in the mountains, whereas the Dwarves had been unaffected.

He was looking northwards, his eyes squinted slightly against the fading light, emphasising the few lines around them, and then he suddenly turned his head to face her. "Follow me, quietly. And bring your bow," he ordered before slipping away into the long grass on silent feet.

She blinked and then trailed after him, her bow held in one hand.

He led her a few hundred yards from the camp before crouching down, gesturing for her to join him. She did so and followed his gaze, realising he was looking at a small red deer absently grazing in the grass. They had seen several of them as they rode, their antlers sticking up out of the grass like dead twigs. This one was quite small, a female based on its lack of antlers, and contentedly munching its evening meal

Lizzy looked questioningly at Thorin and he nodded pointedly down towards the bow in her hands. She glanced quickly between him and the doe. "What?" she breathed, knowing perfectly well what he wanted her to do.

"Would you like venison for dinner tonight, or bread?" he put to her as the deer pricked its ears, probably hearing their whispering.

She hesitated. While they were very well stocked after leaving Beorn's, they had not eaten fresh meat in well over a week. The last time had been when Kili had shot down a bird during their ascent into the Misty Mountains several days before Goblin-town, and she knew that the company would be very pleased with the deer. While she absolutely loved meat and had no problems with the ethical side of eating it, she had only ever bought it from supermarkets before. Slowly, hesitantly, she drew an arrow and fitted it to the bow, drawing the string back to her cheek from her position kneeling in the grass.

There was a long pause as took aim and she steeled her courage, very aware of Thorin's scrutiny.

Releasing the string, the arrow shot towards the doe and embedded itself deep in its flank, near to the tail. The creature stumbled and tried to run, before falling and scrabbling at the ground. Horrible noises of pain erupted from its mouth and Lizzy felt instantly sick to the stomach, any initial surprise she felt at actually hitting the doe overcome by disgust.

Thorin quickly stood, pulling her up with him, and made his way towards the deer with her trailing behind, guilt boiling up inside her. Standing over the grunting and pathetically scrabbling creature, he drew a knife from his belt and held it out to her.

She shook her head violently, feeling close to throwing up.

He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "It is going to die anyway, this is a mercy," he said and when she didn't respond he physically pushed the knife into her hand. "It is in pain," he reminded her, his voice gravelly.

Slowly kneeling down, she lightly placed a hand on the doe's back, which shuddered and twitched beneath her touch. Its eyes wide and rolling in fear, staring up at her. She lifted the knife to its throat and hesitated, her hand visibly trembling, unable to make the final move.

Thorin's large, calloused hand covered hers, forcing it quickly _down_ and _sideways_. A hot rush of blood flooded out over her hand and Lizzy instantly jerked away, gagging as tears formed in her eyes. She scrambled to her feet and retreated a few steps away, bent over double and wondering if she would actually be sick as she dry retched once more. Behind her, she heard him set to work gutting the deer.

"I've never killed anything before," she said softly when she finally straightened after a long moment, looking down at her sticky and blood-covered right hand.

"You did in Goblin-town," he pointed out, apparently having no sympathy for her squeamishness.

She shook her head violently. "That was different," she insisted: and it was, in Goblin-town she had been fighting for her life, against creatures that had held weapons in their hands, not a defenceless animal.

There was a brief silence. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw that he had sliced the deer up the belly and was busy removing organs, placing them to one side. Her stomach heaved once more. "I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered, dropping her bow from her left hand and half covering her mouth with the back of her fingers.

"Have you never prepared your own meat before?" she heard him ask.

"Never, it's not really the done thing where I come from," she told him, suddenly seriously considering taking up vegetarianism as she smelt the offal.

There was a pause.

"Your world sounds like a strange one, harsh in some ways and yet very soft in others," Thorin said and she turned to look at him, recognising the truth in his words. She knew that the Dwarves had considered her description of relationships in her world to be very unrefined when she had told the company of them so many weeks ago, and that they had found it highly strange that she had never felt the need to pick up a weapon before coming to Middle Earth. Things here were at once simpler, and far more complicated at the same time.

Thorin was kneeling down in front of the carcass, both hands covered in blood, and looking at her with his head ever so slightly tilted, like she was a specimen he was studying. "Go return to the camp," he said after a moment, apparently finally taking pity on her because of how queasy she probably still looked. "Send Bombur to come and help. And get the others to build up the fire, we will need it if we are to cook all this," he said, jerking his chin towards the deer.

Eager to be gone, she nodded her understanding and left him kneeling in the grass, detouring to a small stream to wash the sticky, rapidly cooling blood from her hand.

* * *

The sheer pleasure the company displayed at the deer she had shot went a long way towards assaying her guilt, with everyone praising her and Kili beaming like a proud parent, reminding them that he had been the one to teach her. There were other benefits too: Dori, who gave Bilbo a run for his money when it came to his love of food and had been one of the fiercest advocates against her adoption, had apparently decided that he was no longer angry with her when she had told them about their dinner. Bombur quickly took control and by the time the sun set the tempting aroma of meat and vegetables was drifting across the grassy plains, the heavenly smell going a long way to settle her uneasy stomach and conscience. He had made a deliciously thick venison stew, packed with vegetables and chunks of meat. Lizzy helped him hand them around once they were ready.

"Âkminrûk zu" Bifur grunted as she handed him one of the bowls, not having a hand free to sign.

She tilted her head at him and repeated the words as best she could, stumbling over the thick pronunciation of the Khuzdul word. "Ack – min – ruck – zu?" she said slowly, and then shook her head. "Does that mean thank you?"

Bifur nodded and shifted his bowl to one hand, signing_ thank you_ by touching his chin.

"You're welcome," she said with a big smile.

"Yamal," Bifur replied. "_Yamal_," he repeated when she looked at him in confusion, gesturing towards her.

"Yamal … you're welcome?" she hazarded as a guess, and was rewarded by Bifur's happy smile beneath his beard. He patted the ground beside him and she sat down next to him, her own stew warming her hands. She spent the rest of the evening deep in thought.

* * *

It had started with a hair braid. A small, innocuous thing, but it had caught his attention nevertheless.

Elizabeth nearly always wore her hair tied up and out of the way while travelling and elected to leave it loose while relaxing at places like Rivendell or Beorn's, yet he had never actually seen her doing anything with it before. She would normally comb it while bathing, away from the rest of the company, but the previous night she had sat down when they made camp and proceeded to work on removing the knots caused by a long day riding on the windy plains. Based on the way she was practically hacking at it, she was clearly frustrated with her tangled hair and he had realised that she must have lost the small green tie she normally used to hold it back.

He had half watched out of the corner of his eye while tending to his pony as she pulled it up into its customary tail with one hand. In a demonstration of her ingenuity, she then took the plaited Dwarvish braid that Bifur had given her to mark her adoption and wrapped it several times around the base of the tail before using the hair-bead to hold it in place. The result was not as secure as her previous style, but it had nevertheless kept the hair from her face and neck.

Having been watching her, his eyes followed her as she left the camp, going some distance away from them all. He wondered what she was doing, but his question was quickly answered as she started practising her archery. She had indeed become far more adept over the past few weeks, no doubt due to her rigorous determination to train every evening. Since the bow was not a commonly used weapon among Dwarves, she had probably become one of the most proficient in the company, second only to Kili, Dwalin and himself.

She emptied the quiver several times before switching to sword-play, apparently disregarding his previous advice to only train in one weapon per evening now that they were over the mountain. She was struggling with a particular set of moves and he had found himself moving over to assist her, noticing that a few strands had escaped their confinement to stick to the light sheen of sweat on her face.

The next morning, after having slept on it, her hair was in even more disarray: the tail had loosened, meaning that her hair was not pulled back so tightly, with even more wisps escaping. They hadn't spoken again the previous night after he had sent her back to the camp to get Bombur, though now she spurred her pony forwards to ride alongside him, the wind catching in the stray strands of her hair and blowing them haphazardly over her face. The result was far less severe than her usual style, softening her already delicate features without making her look too young, as she sometimes did when she wore it down.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked politely as she drew level with him, giving him a bright smile.

He silently gave her a questioning look, not protesting her presence. She took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

"I'm picking up a few Khuzdul words from Bifur, just by … you know, _proximity_," she said, waving a hand vaguely as she sought the best way to explain herself. "I remember what you said about me not learning anything of your language back in Bag End, but I was wondering if that stance had changed at all?" she finished, the rising lilt of her voice making her last statement into a question.

"Do as you will," he replied, looking forward once more.

"I – wait, _what_?" she asked, blinking at him in surprise.

He could well understand her confusion, knowing that he had taken a very firm stance against this when they had first met. Now, however, things were different. "You are a member of the Firebeard clan and have every right to learn our language."

"_Really_?" she said, sounding thoroughly surprised by this as she absently pushed her hair off her face and stared at him.

"You are, for all intents and purposes, a Dwarf," he clarified, realising that she still did not understand the full implications of her adoption, that she was now bound by their laws and customs.

"Huh," she said eloquently, and then tilted her head to one side with a sudden, wry smile. "I hope this doesn't mean I'm going to grow a beard."

"I happen to think that you would look lovely with a beard," Bofur interjected with cheerful loyalty. He was riding behind them and had apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation. Thorin's mouth quirked at this instant show of affection towards their advisor, though the idea of her with a beard was a slightly unsettling one – her face was too delicate to suit the beards grown by the more sturdily built Dwarf-women, she was a human and that could not be forgotten.

Elizabeth was grinning at Bofur's words too when she turned back to look at him, the morning light catching in her eyes. "So you really don't mind if I start learning Khuzdul?" she asked, a note of eagerness in her voice.

"It is appropriate and fitting that you do so now that you are a member of our clans," he told her, though then thought better of his words: Elizabeth was strange and foreign enough that she would have a difficult enough job earning the Dwarves respect as it was; if she were to meet a Dwarf and instantly be spouting fluent Khuzdul, their very secret and protected language, it would be nothing short of incendiary. "However, we are a reticent race and protective of our language. We do not speak of it to outsiders or even write it on tombstones," he explained. "If you are to learn then I advise that you start very small, a few simple words and phrases that could be used as a common courtesy when meeting other Dwarves. Anything more would be seen as too invasive too quickly."

She pursed her lips as she considered this. "Okay," she said, nodding once. "And thanks," she added, casting another easy smile his way.

Thorin inclined his head, but saw no reason to reply as she reigned her pony back to ride with Bifur and Bofur once more.

* * *

The cheer of their initial departure from Beorn's quickly faded as they approached the forest and Lizzy passed her days learning a few words in Khuzdul. Bifur taught her common niceties like yes, no, please, thank you and a Dwarvish greeting. It was far harder than she had anticipated, the words and pronunciation thick in her mouth, but she persevered as best she could.

No longer ensconced in the safety of Beorn's home, the company set watches and banked the fire after the food was cooked, knowing that they were exposed until they entered the forest. The feeling of being watched or followed started and then grew, to the extent that by the time they reached the Forest Gate, late in the afternoon of the third day, the whole company was feeling cagey. The looming forest and dark maw of the gate did little to assay this feeling and they decided to camp on the outskirts before braving the forest in the morning.

The sunrise made the forest look no less sinister, with its great trees that trailed ivy from their gnarled, twisted branches. She knew from her memories of the books that it would be very dark and unwelcoming inside and so she tilted her head back and basked in the sunrise, knowing it would be the last time she felt the sun properly for several long days.

"Well, this is Mirkwood, one of the greatest forests of the northern realm. I hope you like the look of it," Gandalf said as the Dwarves started to dismantle their camp, readying themselves for the coming journey into the forest. "Do not bother putting the packs on the ponies, you promised Beorn you would send them back at the Forest Gate."

The Dwarves were inclined to grumble at this, but the Wizard quickly scolded them into silence. "Mr Baggins has sharper eyes than you since he noticed that Beorn is not so far off as you might think. He loves his animals as his own children and would make a terrible enemy if you did not keep your promise," he said and Lizzy almost slapped herself in the forehead, having forgotten that Beorn was following the company: it was probably the reason behind the nagging, creeping feeling of being watched that had plagued them the past few days.

"What about your horse, you don't mention sending that back," Thorin said, sounding grumpy.

"That is because I am riding it," Gandalf replied.

Bilbo and the other Dwarves instantly made their displeasure at this known, but Lizzy and Thorin shared a knowing look since she had already divulged that Gandalf would not be joining them in Mirkwood. As their eyes met she found herself wondering how he felt about entering the forest, given that she had basically told him that they were going to be captured. He had seemed a bit tense the past few days of riding, but on the whole appeared to be remarkably un-phased about entering the Elven-king's realm.

Gandalf quickly silenced their protests once more, telling them that he had pressing business away south, and so they finished dismantling the camp. Their hefty packs were shouldered, with Bilbo grouching that his was too heavy. Lizzy's pack felt suspiciously light and when she looked inside she realised that someone had taken out all of the food rations she was meant to be carrying, leaving her with just her own belongings. When she had questioned Bombur about this, he told her that Thorin had ordered them to split her share out among them since her back was still injured.

She blinked at this, and then smiled slightly, deciding not to question this surprisingly chivalrous act. Despite the wounds having closed (whatever magic Gandalf had done on her back in the middle of the battle seemed to have made them heal a lot faster) they still hurt a little when she moved too quickly.

Before long the ponies were all trotting away, happy to put their tails to the dark shadow of Mirkwood, and Gandalf was mounted up on his horse. "Goodbye, goodbye to you all! Straight through the forest is your way now. Don't stray off the track! If you do, it is a thousand to one you will never find it again and never get out of Mirkwood; and then I don't suppose I, or anyone else, will ever see you again."

"Do we really have to go through?" Bilbo asked, looking plaintively up at the Wizard.

"You must go through or give up your quest," he replied sternly, looking down at the Hobbit. "I am surprised at you, Bilbo Baggins. I thought you had discovered more of your courage over the past few weeks. I am relying on you and Miss Elizabeth to see these Dwarves safely to the mountain!"

"I didn't mean that!" Bilbo said hastily. "I meant is there no way around?"

"There is, if you would care to go two hundred miles or so out of your way north, to the slopes of the Grey Mountains which are simply stiff with Goblins and Orcs of the worst sort," he said, causing Bilbo to clamp his mouth shut and shake his head. "Or you can do twice that distance south, though you would be risking yourselves in the land of the Necromancer, which I would not advise. No, stick to the forest-track, keep your spirits up and with a good deal of luck you will come to the Lonely Mountain at the end of it – though best hope that Smaug isn't expecting you!" he finished with a chuckle.

"How comforting you are," Thorin growled, not appreciating the joke about Smaug. "Since you are not coming with us you had best be off without any more talk."

Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows and reigned his horse. "Goodbye then, and really goodbye this time. Take care of yourselves and _do not leave the path!_" he added as he turned and cantered away back into the grassy lands.

They watched him go, with some of the Dwarves grunting things like 'goodbye and go away,' as a way to vent their displeasure in him leaving. It didn't take long until the Wizard was lost to sight. Lizzy hoisted her pack higher on her shoulders and turned to the company with a winning smile, putting on a brave face despite the dangers she knew were coming in the forest. "Well, shall we?" she said with false cheeriness.

"No," Thorin replied, still looking out in the direction Gandalf had ridden off in. His thin lips were pressed into a line and his eyes narrowed, making sure the Wizard had gone.

"No?" she repeated, half raising her eyebrows at him.

He turned to face her, his expression grim and determined. "We aren't going into Mirkwood, not yet, at least."

Lizzy's mouth was hanging partially open as she looked at him in surprise, sudden trepidation welling up within her. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"We are going north, to the colony in the Grey Mountains," he said, meeting her gaze challengingly, almost daring him to contradict her – which she was too stunned and horrified to do, her trepidation turning to full on fear.

"Ered Mithrin?" Balin said, a note of surprise in his voice.

"Aye," Thorin replied, pulling his map of the Wilderland out to show them. "From there we will get boats and travel down the forest-river to Lake-town." he said, showing them the route he intended to take.

"Thorin, no," she breathed, finding her tongue once more. Her fear was rising to full on panic as she realised that he was going to change _everything_.

"Didn't Gandalf just say that there were Orcs and Goblins that way?" Bilbo asked, his brow furrowed beneath his curly hair.

"There is a risk, but Orcs and Goblins are in the Grey Mountains themselves: the colony is in a small offset of the mountains, one that is easily defensible and has never been conquered," Thorin explained, pointing to a small clump of mountains between the main mountain range and the forest. "A tributary for the forest-river runs from there, which will become our road."

The rest of the company seemed very pleased by this: conversations discussing the colony bubbled up between them, with requests for information on what it was like being applied to those who had visited it before. They did not realise the implications of Thorin's decision, that in leading them north he was messing up the whole story.

Lizzy slipped in front of him, her voice quiet and entreating, belaying the depths of her horror. "You can't do this, you'll change everything," she hissed, her eyes wide with terror.

He drew her to one side, away from any prying ears among the company. She was very aware that her hands were shaking and her heart-rate becoming rapid and erratic."That is the idea. We change everything, not just one thing," he said, his voice equally low, but determined.

"But then you might not succeed and I won't know how to change things," she said agitatedly, unconsciously wringing her hands. "Oh _god_, just think of the _risk_ ..."

"I refuse to lead this company into the hands of spiders and the Elven-king's dungeons," he said firmly, making her regret ever telling him anything about what they could expect in Mirkwood. "If I am indeed to succeed on this quest then it will be on my own terms, not those of a book."

She shook her head frantically, her hair flying into her eyes. "Thorin, I am _begging_ you ..." she whispered desperately, a sickening feeling rising up in her chest as her breathing became quick and hectic. She felt almost light-headed, as if she was being smothered.

"Let me ask you something, Elizabeth," he said, surprising her by putting both hands on her shoulders. The contact helped steady her as she swayed on her feet, calming her panic attack slightly. "The story that you know from your world, are you in it?"

"I -" she blinked at him a few times and took a deep breath. "... No," she said very slowly.

"Then everything has already changed," he said intently, his pale blue gaze fixed on hers, keeping her anchored in place. He slowly released her shoulders and looked at her with his chin lowered. "I think you will like Ered Mithrin, it is headed by a member of the Firebeard clan," he added, his voice surprisingly soft.

And with that he turned to rejoin the company, all of whom were still cheerfully discussing Ered Mithrin and being pleased that they now didn't have to traverse Mirkwood on foot. "We march north," Thorin announced imperiously and they all started walking with him leading the way.

"Fuck," Lizzy breathed, fighting back tears as she started to trail after them. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ..."

* * *

**Reviews and constructive criticism are most welcome, I love hearing what you guys think. **

**I know I asked you guys about head-canons a couple of chapters ago, but the story is now taking us to the heart of a Dwarvern colony. So does anyone have any Dwarf head-canon's that they would like to share – ESPECIALLY ones to do with women and courting? If I like them then I will do my very best to slip them in for you!**

**You can also follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars. I am beginning to get into some of the roleplay stuff on tumblr (thanks to the lovely Aluriel / ever-watchful-eyes-of-night, who proofread this for me!) so if anyone would like to ask questions to the characters themselves or any writers who would like to try a proper interaction with Lizzy and any other STL characters, just drop me a line :) **

**And, as ever, thanks for reading!**


	25. Good intentions

"**_Men at some time are masters of their fates:__  
__The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,__  
__But in ourselves, that we are underlings."_**

**William Shakespeare, Julius Caeser**

* * *

The company spent the day talking avidly about Ered Mithrin while they marched, describing in detail the strength of the fortress, the amazing architecture, how mineral-rich the mountains were and, most importantly, the proper food they would get there. After two instances of staying with hosts who did not eat meat they were eager to enjoy food that hadn't been cooked over a camp-fire. Gloin in particular waxed poetic about the superiority of the malt beer and well-cooked meat they would soon be enjoying fresh of the bone.

Despite how tempting the fare sounded, every step Lizzy took was heavy and reluctant as they moved further and further away from the Forest-Gate. She could barely understand how everything had changed so much since they woke up that morning, alternating between blaming herself for telling Thorin about Mirkwood and being angry at him for having the audacity to change their path. She felt numb, as if she was still in shock after her mild panic attack earlier, knowing that nothing would be the same as the book now that they had taken a different route.

It didn't take very long for others to notice Lizzy's preoccupation; she walked at the very back of the company practically sulking in displeasure. Fili and Kili came to walk alongside her sometime in the middle of the morning. "Are you alright?" Fili asked, looking at her with mild concern.

"No," she retorted petulantly, kicking at a tuft of grass. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "I am half thinking about turning heel and marching straight back to Beorn's house to take him up on his offer," she muttered, mostly to herself, her sarcasm belaying the depths of the fear that was still coursing through her.

"What offer?" Kili wanted to know, having heard her words.

"Marriage and dozens of children, by the sounds of it," she replied dully, shoving both hands into her pockets and hunching her shoulders.

Kili promptly tripped over his feet. "Mahal above, you're not seriously considering accepting, are you?" he asked, sounding undeniably worried by the prospect.

Lizzy frowned at him. "No, you dork."

There was a beat. "What's a dork?" he asked curiously after a moment.

"You, _you're_ a dork, Kili," she replied, the first smile of the day being coaxed to her lips. "And I was kidding about accepting," she added, grateful that they had managed to distract her, if only for a moment.

"Will you tell us what's the matter?" Fili asked after a few more moments of walking in silence. "You've alternated between mumbling to yourself and glaring daggers at Thorin's back all morning."

Her frown returned. "I wasn't mumbling," she protested, knowing that this probably wasn't true – she had called both herself and Thorin every foul and ridiculous name she could think of under her breath during the course of trying to decide who she was the most upset and angry with: herself or him. The full, far-reaching implications of his actions hadn't sunk in for her yet and she was half wondering if she would be able to convince him to turn the company around. She _wished_ he had talked to her about his idea before it was too late: she could have talked him out of it, even gotten Gandalf on her side to add weight to her argument. But no, he had probably anticipated such a move and so had sneakily waited until the Wizard was out of sight before springing this little surprise on her.

Realising that Fili and Kili were still waiting for her to elaborate on her melancholy, she decided to explain. "Thorin has changed the path," she told them with a grimace. Their faces remained blank with incomprehension and so she clarified further. "You know, the story from my world about the quest. We are _meant_ to be going through Mirkwood right now."

"So what's the problem?" Kili asked with a slight shrug. "I for one wasn't really looking forward to Mirkwood."

"Things are going to be completely different to what I was expecting!" she said agitatedly, gesturing with her hands to try and convey the importance of this change that they simply weren't grasping. "The _entire_ story will change," She kicked at the ground once more, scuffing the grass with her heel. "Makes my role as advisor a little redundant," she added in a mutinous mutter.

Fili and Kili digested this in silence for a while and Lizzy stooped to pick up a stick to whack at the grass while they walked, enjoying this small way to vent her frustration. If Thorin _had_ confided in her before Gandalf left and they hadn't been able to change his mind then maybe she could have got Gandalf to send her home since she was of no further use here. She had already done enough damage to the quest so this could have potentially been a good time to cut her losses and run, returning to her own world.

Even though it wasn't a possibility now since Gandalf was riding away south, she entertained the thought of suddenly reappearing in that forest in New Zealand. Would she beat her brother on their little race to the camp-site? she wondered briefly, imagining herself running and hugging him to death before frantically ringing her parents just to hear their voices – he would no doubt be highly confused, for him it would be little more than half an hour since they had seen each other.

She sighed: until Gandalf reappeared again there was no way for her to get back to her world anyway. And despite her little daydreams the idea of returning home was now tinged with bitterness. Fili and Kili had become her best friends and she had the Ur brothers, her new, adopted family in this world, as a kind of three crazy uncles. Then there was Bilbo, her quiet and mild-mannered confidant, the one who understood what it was like to be the outcast culture-wise in a company like this, and of course she couldn't forget little Ori, who had been pestering her non-stop for stories from her world since she had told one at Beorn's, faithfully writing her every word in his journal.

The idea of leaving them sent a vicious pang through her, knowing that there would be no way to see them again once she left Middle Earth.

And as for Thorin … well, if by some miracle they _did_ still manage to make it to the mountain then there was still the gold-sickness to contend with and since she was stuck here for now _someone_ had to make sure that the stupid, stubborn arse-hole didn't get himself killed through his own greed and idiocy.

Her musings were interrupted by Fili. "Lizzy, just because things are changing doesn't mean you can't give good advice," he said sensibly. "You still know how we defeat the dragon, don't you?"

She gave him a wan, half smile, knowing that the Dwarves themselves did little to kill Smaug – in fact all they really succeeded in doing was waking him up and rousing his anger. "Yeah," she agreed, examining her feelings to discover why she was really so upset. Her emotions were a roiling mixture of anger, confusion and powerlessness, knowing that Thorin would be stubborn enough to stick to this path no matter what she said, even though she knew she had to _try_ and convince him to turn around. She swished her stick once more, snapping grass stalks in her wake. "I can't decide if I am completely pissed off at Thorin, or ..."

She trailed off, a new thought suddenly occurring to her. At Beorn's house Gandalf had said that only Thorin could save himself – was this sudden self-assertion, this need to be in control of his his own fate, the first step down the path to his salvation?

"... Or?" Kili prompted since she had fallen silent, her mind whirling.

Thorin _might_ have just saved his nephews lives by being brave enough (stubborn, obstinate, pig-headed enough) to change everything, though it might also mean that _everyone_ could die due to his actions.

"You know, I think I just want to be alone at the moment," she said instead of replying properly, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities their path could now take, with no way for her to anticipate them. "Would you guys mind …." she made a vague gesture with one hand.

"Of course," Fili said instantly, touching her lightly on the shoulder. "Let us know if you need anything," he told her, drawing Kili forward and leaving her to walk alone once more.

She sighed, looking at their backs in front of her. She had always known that she would have her work cut out for her in trying to save them, knowing that in stories fate had a nasty way of ensuring that people who were supposed to die did indeed meet there end in some way or another. But now, with everything changing around them, their deaths (if they came at all) might come in a way that she had no way of foreseeing and therefore preventing.

Above her the clouds shifted and swirled as the warm weather fronts of late summer collided with the growing coolness of the approaching autumn. There was a touch of humidity, but as the afternoon wore on a cold easterly wind blew from over the forest, bringing grey clouds and a heaviness to the air. She paused to pull her fleece from her pack and quickly donned it, holding it close to her body as she walked.

A storm was coming and she felt like she was travelling without a rudder in uncharted waters.

* * *

Once again, Elizabeth separated herself from the company when they had halted for the night. She drew her sword and started practising drills, though this time her movements were tense and erratic. She was clearly working off frustration, not practising with any finesse. As she swung her blade to bring it round in a sideways slicing motion the braid securing her hair came loose, as it had been threatening to do for days, causing her long hair to tumble down her back as she practised. Thorin watched as her movements became faster and more jerky until she eventually gave up and simply threw her sword down onto the grass, heedless of the proper way a weapon should be treated. She was quick to follow, slumping down on the ground with her back to the company, pushing her hair out of her eyes and facing the dark forest that loomed threateningly to one side, flanked by the grey clouds.

The weather had started to turn in the last few days, the tail end of summer meeting the early autumn. Being a seasoned traveller, he recognised the signs of a storm brewing and knew that they would have rain in the next few days. Hopefully that would make it harder for anyone to track them, the feeling of being followed still lingering even after sending their ponies (and subsequently Beorn's escort) away. The possibility of Azog picking up their trail weighed heavily on his mind, despite the difficulty the Pale Orc would have finding their scent after being carried by the eagles.

Knowing that they had to talk, he slowly and cautiously approached Elizabeth, picking up her sword and coming to stand along side her. "You are angry with me," he observed, holding out her weapon hilt first for her to take.

"No," she said swiftly, neither looking at him or taking the sword. Then she shook her head. "I mean yes … _Maybe … _Ugh, I don't even _know_," she said irritably, her indecisive words demonstrating the turmoil of her emotions. She sighed deeply and put her head in her hands."I'm scared, I'm _terrified ..._Thorin, we should turn around," she added, her voice both muffled and lacking in conviction.

He shook his head. "It is too late for that," he told her firmly. He would not have his life dictated by a book, his every step and decision already predetermined by a literary counterpart. Late at night, in the darkness of Beorn's halls, he had remembered the Elf-witches words in Rivendell, that he was one of the few in this world who was free to decide their fate and it had added weight to his conviction that he was doing the right thing. Success or failure, it would be on his terms.

Elizabeth lifted her head and pulled her knees in close to her body, hugging them tight as if she was trying to hold herself together by sheer willpower alone. She returned her gaze to Mirkwood, defeat evident in the hunched lines of her back. This morning she had been distressed, to the extent that her breathing had become dangerously rapid and she was swaying on her feet, but now she looked weary and older than her young years.

"I know how you feel," he said quietly to break the lingering silence between them.

"No, just - just _don't_, alright?" she snapped with sudden aggression, getting to her feet and rounding to face him properly for the first time since he approached her. Her voice was a mixture of petulance and steely anger and he took an automatic step backwards as she seized the sword that he was still holding out to her. "Don't give me that crap because you don't know _anything_ about how I feel right now."

"You feel lost and afraid," he stated calmly, half raising a single eyebrow at her tone and keeping a wary eye on the sword in her hand. "You feel as if everything is spinning away from your control."

She blinked, hesitated, and lowered her gaze; he assumed he had guessed her feelings rightly.

There was a brief moment of silence between them and then she raised her narrowed eyes to his once more to glare at him reproachfully. "I know because I felt a similar feeling when I realised that everything, this entire quest, was beyond my control if I continued down the road you had planned for me," he continued, trying to make her see his view. "You were trying so hard not to change events from those which you know, but I will not be dictated to by a book. And now you need not be either." There was another brief pause. "We are free to carve out our own fates, Elizabeth, and we will see to it that all goes well."

"Carve out our own fates," she repeated in a whisper, looking towards the forest. Her normally clear eyes were troubled, filled with the burden of her knowledge. He noticed the hand holding her sword trembling ever so slightly, like a leaf in the wind. "I suppose you're right, this _might_ be exactly what we need."

There was a long silence and he watched the slow play of emotions on her face, her pensive expression turning to resignation before going unusually blank. It was almost unnerving, he was so used to being able to read the quirks and movements of her face and eyes with relative ease, but now he did not know what she was thinking. She then suddenly let out a small, bubbling laugh, one that bordered on hysteria, and sheathed her sword. "It's strange, but now that I actually think about it … I feel kind of … _free_."

He gave her a questioning look at this highly unexpected reaction and she sent him a small, sheepish smile, her posture relaxing ever so slightly.

"Well, not _free_, but … everything was always my fault before. Even though it would have happened even if I wasn't here, you guys blamed me for not telling you things," she explained, half raising one shoulder. He opened his mouth to refute this claim, only to close it when he remembered Fili accusing him of the exact same thing when he had blamed her for their capture in the mountains. "But now … it's terrifying and scary because we are going to be doing it blind, but I suppose there is less pressure on me." She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes, her gaze now less troubled: she appeared to have made her peace with his plan. "I hope this doesn't make me sound selfish, but if we mess up now then it won't be because of something that I could have -" she took a deep, shuddering breath, "- changed or prevented."

"Our decisions are now our own," he summarised for her: if they _messed up_, as she put it, then the weight would be on his shoulders and rightly so. He was leader of this company and was determined to take responsibility for them, not allowing them to be governed by some other-worldly story.

"Exactly," she said, nodding slightly. She then sighed softly once more, looking down at her feet. "Thorin, you said on the Carrock that you thought I had good intentions but didn't know what I was doing ... I – I think you were right, I …"

"You have never been confident in your abilities," he finished as she struggled to find her words, remembering how it had been her lack of confidence and hesitation about giving him straight answers regarding the end of his quest that had prompted the first thoughts of veering from her pre-determined path.

"No," she agreed as she exhaled a breath, a wry note in her voice. She turned to look at him, her silvery eyes piercing. It was as if her gaze was laying bare every doubt and insecurity he had in his plan. "Are _you_ confident that this will work?"

"I have no guarantee that it will," he told her truthfully, choosing to confide in her. The rest of the company knew nothing of his doubts, thinking he had just picked another path without realising the risks and implications of his choice and determination to veer away from what was already planned for them, but Elizabeth did. She not only understood, but countered and argued against him, her every word highlighting the potential flaws and trip-holes of his plan without wholly condemning it; she had come to know him well enough to realise that he could not be swayed once he had set his mind to a course of action. "But I have the intention and determination to see it through to whatever end."

"To whatever end …" she repeated with almost mock seriousness, the ghost of an amused smile on her face, though he could not see what she found amusing. Her mouth slowly fell into a frown and she shook her head. "I know you mean well too, but I hope you understand the gravity of how much you've changed … You might have just saved us all, but you also might have just gotten everyone killed and changed the entire fate of Middle Earth," she said with brutal honesty.

"I know," he agreed seriously, accepting responsibility for his actions.

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek in a way that caused her lips to purse, apparently satisfied that she had impressed the seriousness of the weighty decision he had made onto his shoulders. "I just hope that this works," she said very quietly, not looking at him.

There was a brief pause, then he spoke once more. "I know you don't entirely approve of this plan, but I believe that we must trust in one another's good intentions, Elizabeth," Thorin said and she sent a small smile his way, agreeing with him. They may be showing it in different ways, but they both wanted what was best for the company. He wondered when she had become such an important figure in their midst; when she had first joined them she had been very much on the periphery, a curiosity with her other-worldly heritage, but on the out-skirts of the group nevertheless. Somehow in the past few weeks she had taken on a central and important role in the dynamic of their group, becoming the one he came to for advise.

"Come, let us return to the camp," he said after a very long silence, in which they had been silently and thoughtfully scrutinising each other.

"Thorin," she said, catching his attention as he turned to rejoin the others. She was twisting her fingers but when his gaze met hers she straightened her spine, looking him dead in the eye. "I know I'm not the most suitable person for this company, my knowledge was my best asset," she said with a slightly self-deprecating shrug. "But I want you to know that I am still going to try my best. I signed a contract and I intend to honour that. This quest is mine now as much as it is yours and I am going to see it through," she finished seriously, her gaze locked on his.

His lips parted as he stared at her, not having expected such a declaration. Her words were as good as a vow, binding her to the company even more than her contract already had. He felt a flare of admiration for this strange, slight young woman who was standing before him with her shoulders back as she pledged herself to his cause. _Loyalty, honour, a willing heart ... _he thought, remembering his words to Balin at the start of their quest.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," he said softly, inclining his head at her in acknowledgement of her surprising words.

She gave him another smile with her lips pressed tightly together and then started walking past him back towards the camp. Then she hesitated, turning to look over her shoulder at him, her gaze thoughtful and considering. "Ahh, screw it," he heard her mutter after a moment.

He was startled as she abruptly launched herself towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. He lurched back a step, far too stunned to respond to her sudden embrace. The side of her face was very close to his and he could feel her hair tickling his nose, the fruity, exotic scent he had come to associate with Elizabeth still lingering around her. He held his arms awkwardly by his side, not sure whether or not to return her embrace.

"No matter what happens, you're very brave to have done this, you know. To have taken this risk," she breathed into his ear just before she drew back. "I know I wouldn't have had the courage, and I really, _really_ hope it works," she added with another, somewhat wan smile, her hands still on his shoulders. She then half patted him on the shoulder, released him, and walked away. He was left staggered in her wake: once again, Elizabeth Darrow had managed to surprise him.

* * *

Azog sat astride his white warg, his pale eyes fixed on the opening in the trees, the entrance to the Old Forest Road. For days they had searched for the Dwarves trail, trying to find the point where the eagles, the _bird-scum_, had deposited them after they had fled the burning cliff top. He had led his depleted troops eastwards, over the Old Ford and down towards the southern forest-gate, believing that to be the most likely route the Durin-rats had taken.

His eyes narrowed as he saw one of his scouts returning. He had sent him up the Forest Road to try and find their trail, but based on the fearful hunch of his shoulders he had been unsuccessful.

"The Dwarves, master ..." he said in the Black Speech as he approached, cringing astride his warg. "There is no sign of their trail." The scout instantly lowered his head, no doubt expecting punishment for not finding anything.

Azog lifted his head to scent the air, his mind working swiftly. There was no way the eagles would have carried them all the way to the mountain, they were too proud to do such a thing, so they would be travelling on foot somewhere and there were only two paths through the forest.

"They must have gone north," he said to himself with a low growl.

He arched his clawed hand over his head, gesturing for his troops to muster and ready to depart. Within minutes they were spurring their wargs into motion, sprinting northwards over the grassy plains.

* * *

**Big thank you to all of my followers and reviewers, especially my non-signed in ones that I can't reply to!**

**For this weeks question lets do one about you, I love hearing about you guys … since autumn is well and truly coming down on us, did you guys have a good summer? Did you go away anywhere, what was your favourite part? :)**

**Speaking of going away, I am off to Paris for a few days (squeeeeee!) so there MIGHT be a minor delay on the next chapter, just as a forewarning. I am visiting one of my best and oldest friends who moved out to France when we were 9. I used to go visit her and we would tramp about in our wellies on her families land and down in the stream, re-enacting the Hobbit … not even kidding, we were cool kids and fans from a young age! Anyway, she has now moved to Paris, so I am visiting for a weekend – c'est tres excited! :p **

**Don't forget to review! You can also follow any updates, sneak peeks, Richard Armitage spam and ask questions on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars**

**Love to you all :) **


	26. The Gamril Stair

"**The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she's treated."**

**George Bernard Shaw, Pygmalion**

* * *

Sure enough, the anticipated storm started not far into their journey north, soaking the entire company to the skin despite their hoods and layered clothing. The displeasure at their dampness was to the extent that several of the Dwarves who had previously been pleased at the prospect of visiting Ered Mithrin now half-heartedly begrudged the small shelter that being under the trees of Mirkwood would have given them, as well as the inability to light a fire for hot food in the wet weather. After the initial rain a misty drizzle descended upon the plains, never truly allowing them to dry and turning their surroundings to a grey haze.

Subsequently, their march north was soggy and monotonous, though Thorin at least was pleased that the rain would help in masking their trail. Despite the eagles carrying them some distance and their stay at Beorn's, he was worried that Azog would pick up their scent and they would have no defence while exposed on the plains.

Several long, wet days after they had left the forest-gate, he noticed a break in the weather, the hazy mist lifting somewhat and revealing a welcoming sight before them. He slowed his pace to allow Elizabeth, who was walking a little ways behind him, to catch up.

"Look there," he said, pointing forwards as she drew level with him.

She followed his gaze and frowned. "Look where?"

He nodded forwards and watched as her eyes scanned the horizon. Her brow was crumpled in confusion and her hair hanging in damp tendrils around her face from beneath her bright purple hood. "I don't see anything, what am I meant to be looking … _oh_ ..." she said, her eyes suddenly going very wide.

A cool breeze was shifting the mist and the mountains were slowly becoming visible. They had been a distant smudge on the horizon when they had left the forest-gate, but now they loomed high several miles ahead of them. "Is that Ered Mithrin?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the peaks to look at him.

"Technically Ered Mithrin is the mountain range behind these, which you will be able to see soon. Even though the fortress is located in these mountains, which are very rich in minerals and ores, it takes its name from the other range since it is a strategic point from which to reach the entire mountain range and Mount Gundabad," he explained, squinting towards the far peaks.

"Gundabad?" she repeated, confused. "Isn't that where Azog comes from?"

Thorin was silent for a long moment.

"It was not always an Orc stronghold," he said eventually, speaking slowly. "The mountain of Gundabad is, according to legend, where Durin first woke from the sleep that the Valar had put the Dwarf forefathers in at the making of the world."

"So it was the first hall of the Dwarves," she guessed, a note of sadness entering her voice since she knew it was now nigh overrun with all sorts of foul creatures.

"No, Durin woke there alone and walked south until he came to Khazad-dum, which he founded as the first Dwarf kingdom," he told her; these stories were a part of her new, adopted culture and she had every right to hear them. "Gundabad has always been held as a sacred site for the Dwarves. It was eventually formed into halls in honour of Durin, but used as a delegation point between kingdoms." There was a brief silence. "It was sacked by Orcs under the command of Sauron in the Second Age."

"Oh … I'm sorry," she murmured, her eyes downcast.

He shot her a look, remembering how she had apologised for the loss of his family after the Battle of Azanulbizar several long weeks ago, when they had been travelling in the wilderness before Rivendell. "Once again you apologise for events in which you had no part," he reminded her.

She gave him a small, sideways smile. "Call it an other-worldly quirk," she said wryly.

They walked in silence for several minutes, the only noise being the squelch of their boots in the muddy grass and the quiet hum of the company's conversation behind them, then she spoke again. "You know, I am a little nervous about this."

He gave her a questioning look.

"Ered Mithrin," she elaborated. "Half the company didn't speak to me for days after my adoption, though they do seem to have made their peace with it now. And they _know_ me, but these guys ..." she trailed off and shrugged awkwardly. "Well, I'm worried I might not get the warmest of welcomes."

This was very likely and he knew the situation would have to be handled with tact and diplomacy, hopefully something she was well-versed in. "Surely you have dealt with adversary before as a political advisor in your world," he said logically.

"What?" she said, looking at him with smiling bemusement. "I wasn't a political advisor."

He blinked at her and then frowned. "I was under the impression that in the past you had devoted your time to studying politics. And when you described the workings of your … _parliament_," he said, hesitating as he reached back for the word from their debate all those weeks ago, "I assumed ..."

"No," she laughed. "Nooo, I studied politics because I had an interest in it, certainly not out of any desire to become a politician," she said with a toothy grin. "My course was more of a … _world_ study," she told him. "Seeing how other countries worked, the interplay of things like religion and culture on laws, things like that."

"Then you do not work as an advisor to the government?" he asked, feeling thrown though attempting to mask it by keeping his face blank: this was an assumption he had made about her almost from their first meeting, despite her youth.

"Nope," she said, popping the p in her usual, strange manner of speaking. "I spent my summer working in a tiny little bookshop," she told him casually.

He was baffled by this, having always considered her to be a something of a high figure in her society – any evidence to the contrary, like her enjoyment of occasionally spouting profanity and sometimes unladylike behaviour, he had discounted as simply being cultural differences between their worlds. The revelation what she was a commoner was a surprising one, though it did account for the affinity she had quickly developed with the Brothers Ur. Now he considered himself somewhat foolish for both entertaining the notion of her elevated status and ignoring all evidence that had contradicted it.

"You seem surprised by this," she observed, still smiling as she managed to read his thoughts in his face.

"Yes," he admitted freely. "You certainly had no qualms in freely giving your opinion to me and negotiating your contract when we first met, almost to the point of being disrespectful. It gave me the impression that you were someone important in your world."

She made a spluttering noise. "Why thank you, your _majesty_," she said sarcastically.

He frowned at her. "I meant no offence."

"I assure you that I took none, sire," she said clearly amused and biting back a grin. "I am humbled that one so high and mighty as yourself would deign to make conversation with a peasant."

His lips thinned at her words, which hit far too close to previous insults for comfort as he remembered the taunts of people long ago when he had laboured in the villages of men. There had been provocations that he allegedly believed himself far above them; a crown-less king nursing an ale alone at the back of the village pub, paid for with coppers he had scrounged after a day at the forge.

However eyes were sparkling with innocent amusement and he felt no malice in her words, nor was there any hint of scorn in her baring. Her words were clearly meant in jest and he could indeed see the humour. "You are making fun of me, Elizabeth," he observed, his lip curling ever so slightly.

"Nooo, a commoner like me would never dare tease a king," she retorted cheekily and then bit her tongue between her teeth, watching his reaction to her teasing. He noticed that the cut on both her lip and temple from Goblin-town had both healed nicely, leaving nigh a scar.

He interlinked his hands behind his back as he walked and kept his gaze forward. "And you wonder why I thought you demonstrated a lack of respect for royalty," he said, keeping his tone dry.

She chuckled. "There is a very big difference between friendly banter and a lack of respect," she said smilingly. "And I happen to have a lot of respect for you."

Thorin looked at her as she said this, noticing the sheer openness and cheer on her rain-dampened face. He was pleased that his actions in deviating from the path had not damaged the tentative friendship that had started to form between them – for friendship it was despite its newness, there was very few people in the world that he would speak to thus. He knew that she could potentially have been furious with him for his decision to take them north, but any anger on her part had dissolved after their conversation after leaving the forest-gate.

And she had also hugged him. He knew she was free in her affections, having seen her hugging others and even rough-housing with Fili and Kili when they had been trying to teach her weaponry, but having such attentions directed to him as well felt … unusual. Before embracing Bilbo on the Carrock the last person to hug him had been his sister, just before she had warned that she would tan his hide should anything happen to her precious boys on this adventure.

"Returning to your original point," he said, redirecting the conversation since they had been somewhat distracted. "It is very likely that you will face some opposition, but I have every confidence that you will face it with your usual directness and determination."

"The Dwarves won't know what hit them," she said with a slight snort of amusement.

"Your new family will staunchly defend you, at any rate," he added, glancing over his shoulder to where the Ur Brothers were walking in the middle of the company.

She smiled at this and then her gaze moved to the mountain range ahead of them. "How long until we arrive?" she asked.

He squinted at the mountains, trying the judge the distance – a much easier feat now that they were visible in the lifting mists. In fact before the mist had cleared he hadn't realised how quick the pace they had set was, though he was pleased by their fast progress northwards. "We should be within the mountains by this evening, then we can start to make the ascent tomorrow."

"Ascent?" she repeated, pulling a face at the prospect of climbing.

"We are approaching the fortress from behind," he explained. "The main doors are beside a lake at the far end of a wooded valley that opens up to face the mountains, though there are side valleys one can enter from," he said, nodding to the mountain range behind the smaller cluster they were heading towards that was gradually becoming visible on the horizon with the shifting clouds and mist. "However we will be using a hidden staircase that winds up and then down the side of one of the mountains that makes up the fortress, coming down next to the doors. It should take us little more than a days marching to navigate it."

"Stairs, sounds like fun," she said, sounding distinctly unenthusiastic at the prospect. The valley would probably be easier to traverse, but it was also easier to track their steps in the soft grass. The bare rock of the hidden steps was a better alternative.

Realising that they would most likely encounter sentries on the Gamril Stair, a thought occurred to him. "Elizabeth," he said to recapture her attention. "It might be a good idea to wear a hood during our journey through the mountains."

Her gaze flicked up to the hood that was tight around her head, looking somewhat bemused by his suggestion. "One that covers your face," he clarified.

"Why?"

"Dwarf women normally travel disguised when they do venture out from colonies," he said. "A woman travelling so openly would be perceived as … unusual. It would also be a good idea to conceal your braid until we are within the fortress."

She thought about this for a moment and then nodded her compliance. "Okay, but I hope you realise that you've just volunteered me the use of your cloak," she said, giving him a somewhat playful smirk before dropping back to join the others.

* * *

They made good time that day, buoyed by the lifting mists. By the evening they had reached the mountains and ascended partially out of the valley and onto the stairs. Even though this had meant walking until well past dusk this was a wise tactical decision since they would be harder to track on the bare rock than the soft valley floor. Thorin had refused them permission to light a fire and while Dwalin was silently displeased with this he could not help but agree; there was no sense in potentially drawing trouble just for the sake of some hot food when they would shortly be enjoying all the comforts of a Dwarf colony.

As was her habit, Miss Darrow practised some sparring moves as best she could in the dim light. Dwalin half watched her as he ate the dried bread and fruit supplied to them by Beorn. She had been practising for several weeks now and her form had most definitely improved, to the extent that she could start sparring properly against them soon. As he observed her, taking note on what he needed to correct her on, he saw her suddenly pause and lower her sword, looking intently out over the valley.

She then turned quickly to the camp and her gaze met his, her eyes very wide.

"Dwalin!" she hissed as she made eye-contact, jerking her head towards where she had been looking.

Realising she had seen something, he was on his feet like a shot and by her side. Sure enough, there were tiny, flickering lights moving down in the valley. The lights were close to where they had been scant hours ago and near to where they would have made camp had Thorin not insisted on them moving partially up out of the valley.

"Get down," he growled, pushing her into a crouch with one large hand on her shoulder.

"Any chance it might be the Dwarves?" she asked, not sounding very hopeful that this was the case.

He shook his head. "Orcs, most likely Azog," he replied with a sneering lip curl, his gaze scanning the valley. The entrance to the steps was well concealed, but the location of the doors to the fortress would be known to Goblins since they were not hidden like Moria's were. They could easily be cut off if they didn't move fast.

"Why are they using torches?" she asked quietly. "They must know it makes them visible."

This was a good question and he thought for a moment about the layout of the valley before replying. "They do not realise we are above them, were we down in the valley their torches would be concealed by rocks and foliage," he grumbled. "They must have tracked us north and they will be searching for our trail. They will know by now that we are making for the fortress."

He saw her press her lips together, her brows lowered deeply. "What do we do?"

"We move, now," he said, his growling voice belaying his agitation. "Go and tell Thorin, we will have to climb the stairs through the night and pray to Mahal that the Orcs stop for a rest, otherwise they will cut off our access to the doors."

* * *

Lothi squinted out into the growing dawn as he ate his breakfast, which consisted of cold meat and increasingly dry bread. He swallowed the mouthful with difficulty and took a swig of water from the skin at his side before brushing the crumbs from the auburn braids of his beard. Only two more days until his shift as a sentry on the Gamril Stair finished, then he would be able to return to the fortress. He smiled at the thought of the thick, meaty stew Ristil would no doubt cook for his arrival and felt a pang of longing for his wife and Raes, their young son.

He finished his breakfast and resumed his post, high up in the valley guarding the Stair. As usual, he largely ignored the nods the other sentries gave him in deference of his rank as the son of a lord. The sun had just peeked over the horizon when he suddenly tensed, alerting the others to potential danger with a wave of his hand.

Sure enough, his instinct proved to be right and he heard the murmur of voices down the Stair below them. It did not sound like the harshness of Orc-speech, but he signalled to the others to ready their weapons nevertheless.

The voices became louder as the company approached. He recognised the lilting brogue of the Dwarves away to the west over the Misty Mountains, making him relax somewhat, but in this day and age it was worth being cautious. He caught his first glimpse of the group approaching: a large group of Dwarves were coming around the corner.

He signalled once more to the other sentries and they suddenly leapt out from their hidden posts and onto the path. The approaching company instantly drew their own weapons, clearly battle ready.

"Identify yourselves," Lothi ordered, holding his axe at the ready.

The tall, dark haired Dwarf at the head of the company lowered the gleaming sword he held ever so slightly. "I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror," he said in a deep and rumbling voice, his gaze cutting. "My companions are friends and kin. We are journeying to Ered Mithrin."

The sentries around him muttered in awe to themselves, the king of their people being in their midst. Thorin had mentioned his kin as being among his companions and Lothi's eyes drifted to two of the younger members of the group, one of which had an arrow trained on him. He recognised the royal sigil on the vambraces of the other and realised that they must be the two young princes that he had heard of, possibly about a decade younger than himself. Standing among them was a companion wearing a long cloak and a deep hood that covered their face, the royal sigil also clearly visible on the silver clasp at the persons throat.

Lothi lowered his axe and bowed his head respectfully to Thorin. "Your visit is an unexpected one," he said. "I am Lothi, son of Lothar, the commander of this fortress. Might I enquire why you have come, my lord?"

"That is for your fathers' ears only," Thorin said sternly, cutting a very imposing figure, his sword still half poised in his hand. "I have reason to believe that we are being pursued by Orcs intending to cut us off in the valley, so time is of the essence. May we pass?" It was posed as a question, but Lothi recognised it as a demand from one who was used to getting his way.

"Aye, my lord," Lothi replied, suddenly pleased that he would be returning to the fortress earlier than planned. And with such distinguished company there was bound to be a feast, he thought with satisfaction, though the news that they were being pursued worried him. "I shall escort you personally."

Thorin inclined his head in acknowledgement of his words, but at that moment a breeze stirred and rustled the leaves around them, catching in the hood of the cloaked companion and blowing it down to reveal their face – a human woman.

Lothi blinked, his mind whirling over the implications of a human woman wearing the royal symbol of Durin. "You travel with a human, my lord?" he asked cautiously, not wishing to cause offence with his question.

"Lady Elizabeth Darrow," Thorin said by way of an introduction, giving no explanation for her presence as he half gestured to the woman, who looked a little disgruntled at her hood having blown down. She was the first human woman he had seen, only ever having interacted with the men that bought supply boats up the Anduin that they traded from occasionally. Her form was largely hidden beneath the cloak, but her facial features were strange, being far too delicate and thin with no hint of a beard at all.

He inclined his head at the lady, unsure of her rank and therefore the deference he should show her, especially since she wore the royal sigil. He then also noticed among the group a short, curly haired man, one with copious amounts of hair growing on his bare toes. "And what is this creature?"

"Master Bilbo Baggins, a Hobbit of the Shire," the king further introduced, sounding displeased at his curiosity. "The rest of my companions are of the line of Durin and the Dwarvern clans, now I ask you again, Lothi, son of Lothar … may we pass?" he repeated with a note of steel in his deep voice.

He had heard of halflings of course, but did not understand the presence of these two companions in the Kings company and it presented a problem despite his willingness to acquiesce to the kings request. "Never before have we allowed non-Dwarves into Ered Mithrin."

"Will you deny them passage?" Thorin asked, the barest hint of a threat in his tone.

"No," Lothi said quickly, worried he had offended the king but also knowing that he must abide by their laws. "But ... they must be blindfolded."

Thorin narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Both of my companions are loyal friends and pose no threat to the Dwarves," he started to say, but the woman stepped forward and started to speak over him.

"Thorin, it's fine," she said to him, making the king turn to gaze at her intently. She then spoke very softly to him and Lothi caught something about trying to make a good impression and not antagonise them. He could not make out the whole of the whispered conversation, but the result was Thorin sheathing his sword.

"Very well, do as you will," he said imperiously to Lothi.

He nodded at one of the other sentries and two of them cautiously approached the two companions with strips of material. The woman allowed herself to be blinded with all the hauteur of a queen, but the Hobbit acquiesced with many grumbles.

Lothi gave some quick orders to the sentries remaining behind, telling them he would send reinforcements to fill the empty posts when they reached the fortress. Within moments the entire company was ready and he started to lead them further up the stairs and over the mountain.

* * *

Fain, the captain of the guard in Ered Mithrin, was sitting in the guardroom just above the main doors of the fortress enjoying a hearty breakfast when one of the younger guards-men came bursting in, his armour rattling with his agitation.

"This had better be good," he grumbled, using an old rag to mop up the coffee he had spilt after being startled.

"Sir, there is a company of Orcs and wargs approaching the gates," the young Dwarf said, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

There had not been an attack on the fortress for months now and so this news caused Fain to scowl deeply. "How many?"

"It appears to be just over a dozen, sir. They came up from the south, through one of the side entrances into the valley," the Dwarf replied.

Such a small number. Small even for a raiding party and yet they were going for the front gate. Fain followed the guards-man out onto the walkway so that he could see the lake and woods beyond. Sure enough, wargs were snuffling at the shores of the lake and several Orcs were milling about, seemingly making no motion to attack.

"Shall I muster a company?"

Fain shook his head. "They are no threat to us, there is no way they can breach the doors," he told him logically. "If they come close enough then shoot them, but beyond that there is no point risking anyone."

"They might attack the sentries," the guard pointed out.

This was true, small as the company of Orcs was they would probably be enough to overwhelm the sentries on the pass. "Unless they go for the Gamril Staircase we won't take any action at all," he said commandingly. "Bring my breakfast up here and I will keep watch."

The guards-man nodded and vanished off the walkway. Fain stroked his beard and lent against the parapet, observing the Orcs and wargs. Their mounts were snuffling at the ground, clearly searching for some scent, but apparently unsuccessfully. It almost appeared as if they were waiting for something, but what he couldn't say.

Suddenly a terrifyingly familiar, ghostly white figure emerged from the trees and Fain's blood turned to ice.

* * *

Both Lothi and the other two sentries escorting the king's company were largely quiet as they made their way up the Gamril Stair, though he passed an interesting morning observing the dynamic of the group. He had discovered that three of them, the Brothers Ur, were Firebeards like himself. He had attempted to draw the larger one, Bombur, into conversation, but when he had asked the reason for their presence this far east the Dwarf had gone very closed-mouthed and so he had stopped asking questions. Meanwhile his kin were assisting the human woman in walking with her blindfold. She had her hands on the slightly wild-looking Dwarfs shoulders, the one with what appeared to be the remains of an axe embedded in his forehead, as he walked before her. The cheerful Dwarf with the hat was trailing behind, occasionally guiding her one way or another with gentle nudges and keeping a running commentary on the height of the stairs she could expect in front of her.

What interested him most, however, was Thorin occasionally glancing back to check on her.

They paused for a brief rest at the top of the stairs, in which he allowed the two non-Dwarves to briefly take their blindfolds off. On the next leg downwards the two young princes took the place of the Brothers Ur in guiding the woman. Laughter occasionally rang out from the trio, despite her blindfold and the threat of Orcs Thorin had warned of. Listening in, Lothi discovered that she was regaling them with a story in which he recognised barely two thirds of the words used. She was telling them about having done an _obstacle course _ blindfolded as part of an initiation to a _swim soc_ at her _uni_, something which had apparently ended up, in her words, with her 'falling flat on my arse in front of some dude.'

They seemed to have little problem with both her profanity and understanding the meaning of some of these highly strange words, their laughter bouncing like bells off the rock wall to their right. Utterly bemused, Lothi found himself wondering where exactly in Middle Earth this strange lady haled from.

It was barely mid-morning by the time they were rounding the shores of the lake and approaching the corner that marked the final, short stretch of stairs down to the doors. "We are making the final descent, they can remove their blindfolds if they wish," Lothi announced to the company, speaking for the first time since politely asking the woman and Hobbit to don their blindfolds after lunch.

Thorin himself assisted the woman with her blindfold. Once it was pulled free she blinked and then gasped at the sight before her. "Bloody hell, you didn't tell me we were on the edge of a _cliff_," she said with a startled laugh, taking an automatic step away from the sheer drop a few feet to her left. The Gamril Stair was carved into the rock of the mountain itself; as it was, at the moment they were not very high up, with a drop of about fifty feet into the deep, cold waters of the lake beside them. "How deep is the water?" she asked curiously, having recovered from her surprise enough to look out over the edge and into the clear, sparkling blue lake.

"About three fathoms," Lothi replied to her query. He personally had never swum beyond his depth in the lake, but others had and had reported the depth boastfully.

"In English?" she said nonsensically to Thorin.

"About the height of three men," the king replied without looking at her, his eyes scanning both the rock wall above them and the lake below for potential danger. He seemed on edge, clearly worried about the potential attack he had warned of.

"The water gets shallow quite quickly from here to the shore," Lothi explained as they started walking again.

The woman's eyes followed the path downwards, looking to where the doors of the fortress were just starting to come into view as they rounded the corner. "I thought Dwarf doors were invisible when closed," she stated, looking impressed at the intricate stonework surrounding the main gate of the fortress.

"Not all of them, the doors to Erebor are near double the size of these," Thorin told her as they rounded the corner – whereupon the king abruptly froze and swore in Khuzdul.

Following the line of his gaze, Lothi abruptly tensed when he saw the Orcs emerging from the trees at the shores of the lake – their access to the fortress had indeed been cut off, as Thorin had feared. Their company was noticed almost instantly and four riderless wargs were already sprinting up the stairs towards them, their snarls echoing off the rock walls. "Wargs, we're under attack!" Lothi shouted, causing the others to reach for their weapons also.

In front of him, Thorin grabbed the woman and pushed her back within the protection of the company, despite the fact that she had already drawn her sword. "Stay back," he ordered her and Lothi heard her protest. The king then turned, drawing his own weapon, poised to defend his company.

The path was only wide enough for three to walk abreast, limiting their ability to manoeuvre in a fight. Lothi found himself on the front line, next to Thorin. He glanced at the Dwarf-king, his sword at the ready and his teeth bared in a snarl.

The wargs were upon them. Thorin hit one in the neck with a clean slice but the others simply leapt over the corpse. Lothi swung his axe, embedding it deep into the side of one of the monsters. It snarled and tossed its huge head in pain, catching him in the side and knocking him clear off the side of the cliff.

He dropped his axe as he fell, twisting as the air rushed up around him. He hit the water with the force of a hammer upon an anvil, the icy coldness of the mountain meltwater stabbing into him and driving the air from his lungs. He struggled towards the surface, gasping for breath, but was dragged downwards by the weight of his armour.

_Why doesn't Fain help?_ was his last thought as the icy water closed over his head. _Why have they not opened the doors?_

* * *

The entire mood of the company had shifted from reasonably relaxed to battle-ready the second they had rounded the corner on the approach to the fortress. Seeing the wargs, Lizzy had instantly and instinctively drawn her sword, holding it at the ready in front of her. She was startled by a strong hand at her waist, dragging her backwards.

"Stay back," Thorin ordered, pulling her protectively behind him as he drew his own sword.

"I can fight -" she started to insist, but was cut off.

"The path is too narrow," he told her swiftly. "Elizabeth, _stay back_."

Lizzy could begrudgingly see the wisdom of this. The path was only wide enough for a few of them to walk together and had a sheer drop into icy water to their left, not the best area for a fight. Keeping Naethring drawn, she reluctantly fell back among the others to the protection of the rest of the company, all of whom had their weapons at the ready.

The first of the wargs leapt to attack and Thorin killed it with a strong and clean slice to the neck. Their guide, Lothi, was not so lucky. He swung his axe hard at the second warg, hitting it in the side, but was caught by the warg tossing its head in pain. The young Dwarf, probably somewhere between Fili and Bombur in age, teetered for a second at the edge of the cliff before vanishing over the side of the precipice.

Lizzy and Bilbo dashed to the edge of the path while the rest of the company prepared for the arrival of the other wargs that were sprinting up the steps towards them. There was no sign of Lothi, just a patch of white, disturbed water where he had hit the surface of the lake.

"I don't think he can swim properly," Bilbo said shakily after a moment, his own sword drawn in his hand as he scanned the water.

Lizzy didn't even think, didn't pause to consider her actions at all. She hastily sheathed her sword and shucked off her pack, allowing it to drop to the path. Her fleece and bow, safely ensconced with the arrows in the quiver, were quick to follow.

She took two steps backwards. Hesitated. Then she drew a deep breath and simply ran, throwing herself off the path and into the empty space beyond.

"_Elizabeth_!" she thought she heard Thorin shout as she jumped.

This wasn't her first time diving, having done a couple of cliff-dives in New Zealand with her little brother, but never before has she felt this kind of exhilaration and fear. The sensation of falling rushed through her stomach as the air whizzed past her. Her body instinctively moved into position, her arms going outwards and then over her head as she tilted forwards.

She hit the water and the nearly seized up at the coldness, which drove into her like knives. She ignored the instinct to go to the surface for air and propelled herself downwards. Her heavy walking shoes hindered her and she cursed herself for not taking them off before she jumped. She toed them off as quickly as she could while she swam, her eyes scanning the water. Luckily the lake was crystal clear and so she quickly located Lothi. He was frantically struggling to swim, clearly being weighed down by his armour. He saw her and his eyes widened, a small stream of bubbles escaping from his mouth in shock.

Realising that they were close to the lake bottom, she gestured downwards with her hands before taking him by the shoulders. They sunk to the lake floor and then both pushed off hard with their feet, Lothi clearly recognising her plan and helping as best he could. They shot upwards and their heads briefly cleared the surface, allowing them a quick and desperate gasp of air. He was still too heavy, not a strong enough swimmer to stay afloat, and so quickly started sinking again, his arms thrashing.

"Armour, your armour," Lizzy spluttered at him just as his head vanished.

She took in another lungful of air and dived down to follow, finding him struggling with the clasps on his shoulders. Seeing that she had followed, he frantically gestured to his back. She swam around him and, noticing the clasps at the back, quickly scrabbed to undo them.

Miraculously, she managed to free him and he pulled his arms out of the heavy breastplate he wore, allowing it to sink away. Tugging him upwards, they made it to the surface once more, gasping for breath.

They slowly started making for the shore, a colossal effort since both of them were still being weighed down by their clothes. Soon they felt pebbles beneath their feet and they were able to stagger forwards, finding themselves quite near to the doors of the fortress. Both of them were dripping wet, panting for breath and gripping each others shoulders for support as they stumbled through the shallower water.

In the course of diving into the water Lizzy had clean forgotten that they were under attack. Most of the Orcs and wargs were engaged in attacking the company, who were fighting their way towards the great doors of the fortress. Her heart clenched in fear as she saw Azog surveying the fight from astride his warg, his narrow mouth open in a snarl of displeasure with his hate-filled eyes fixed on Thorin. As it was, the numbers were pretty evenly matched on both sides and all the members of the company were strong fighters, but her companions were in danger and reinforcements would not go amiss.

Lizzy released Lothi and broke into a run, splashing through the shallows until she was on dry land before the intricately carved doors of Ered Mithrin. She banged on them with both fists. "Help us!" she yelled against the unyielding stone, her clothes soaking wet and clinging to her.

The doors remained closed.

She only succeeded in drawing attention to herself. She heard a snarl from behind her and turned to see a warg and rider approaching, the Orc holding his sword and giving her a menacing, sneering growl. She drew Naethring once more, which was miraculously still in its sheath after her dive, and squared off against the Orc, her heart pounding.

Clearly thinking he had her cornered, the Orc was slow and cocky in his approach. She was hesitant to attack, having learnt during her sparring lessons that it was often better to defend oneself that to potentially give an enemy an opening in attacking first. When the Orc was scant feet before her, to the extent that she could smell the foetid putridity of the wargs breath, it was struck on the side of the head with a rock, almost falling out of its crude saddle. Glancing over, she saw Lothi still in the shallows of the lake stooping for another stone and throwing it with lethal accuracy, this time hitting the warg. Of course the stone did little damage, but it caused the warg to turn its head and snarl at the young Dwarf, giving Lizzy the opening she needed.

Lunging forward, she jabbed her sword deep into the side of the wargs neck and then ducked as the Orcs scimitar swung towards her, having rightened itself in the saddle. The sword swung over her head, its momentum causing the Orcs arm to be flung out wide, giving her another opening. Yanking her sword free, she stabbed upwards, through the metal-studded leather vest and into the Orcs chest. The attack cause vile black blood to flood out over her hand and arm, disgustingly warm and foul smelling.

Nevertheless, both the warg and Orc collapsed down to the floor, dead. She lowered her sword, staring down at their prone bodies in shock.

Lothi dashed past her and struck the door with one fist. "Open the doors!" he ordered in a loud voice and they instantly cracked open, swinging slowly and ponderously outwards. A small company of fully armed Dwarves emerged, their ranks splitting into two as they marched around her. She heard a loud roar and turned in time to see Azog giving his troops a signal. Having seen the new reinforcements the remaining Orcs started to flee into the trees.

Lizzy was suddenly grabbed by the arm and dragged backwards into the fortress by Lothi, still trying to see what was happening and frantically trying to make sure her companions were safe. Through the doors, she saw several members of the company making towards the fortress as the Dwarves of Ered Mithrin routed the last of the Orcs. She saw Bilbo, bless him, with her bag whereas Ori had her bow and fleece. Thorin was still lingering on what had been the battlefield, his gaze locked on Azog's retreating back, his bloodied sword held at the ready and his teeth bared.

"Thorin!" she called when she saw him take a step away from the safety of the fortress.

He hesitated at the sound of her voice, then turned and jogged towards the doors. He was the last inside and once he was within the doors silently began to swing closed. The opening of light narrowed to a glowing crack until the closed with a menacing thud, plunging them into near darkness as they were shut into the mountain.

* * *

**As always, reviews are most welcome!**

**This weeks question … what would you most enjoy about visiting your favourite place in Middle Earth?**

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	27. Ered Mithrin

"**No man is offended by another man's admiration of the woman he loves; it is the woman only who can make it a torment."**

_**Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey**_

* * *

Elizabeth's voice roused Thorin from the battle-rage that had descended upon him. The knowledge that she was safe caused the fog to lift somewhat and he hesitated as he watched Azog's cowardly retreat. He had been seriously considering pursuing the Pale Orc and finishing what should have been done decades ago before the gates of Moria regardless of the risk to himself. Realising that he was the last outside, with everyone else having retreated into the safety of the fortress, he temporarily turned his back on his revenge and jogged quickly towards the open doors.

As he passed the threshold he saw Elizabeth frantically looking for him. Her eyes found his and her face brightened in relief as he entered the safety of the fortress and the doors started to close behind him. He went straight for her, wanting to check that she was unharmed after her foolhardy actions on the cliff. His heart had clenched in acute panic when he had seen her run and throw herself into the empty space off the path, her arms moving gracefully up and over her head as she swan-dived into the water.

She was soaking wet and shivering, her clothes clinging revealingly to the curves of her body like a second skin. She must have kicked off her shoes while she was in the water since her feet were covered only by socks that were leaving wet prints on the stone beneath her feet. There was black orc blood staining one arm and he realised she must have fought at least one of them, though thankfully there didn't seem to be a scratch on her.

He pulled off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. "Never, _ever_ do something like that again," he said sternly, keeping his fingers wrapped in the fur of the coat collar to hold it closed around her. Her hair was dark with water and dripping down onto his fingers; it had come loose from its haphazard tail in the course of her dive and was now hanging down her back in a wet tangle.

Their faces were close together due to their similar heights and she had her eyes barely flicked up to look at him, bright despite the growing gloom as the doors closed. "It worked, didn't it?" she said with a hint of a mischievous smile on her face.

"That is beside the point," he growled, using the coat collar to pull her ever so slightly towards him in an attempt to emphasise his displeasure, making her rock forward on her toes, the fur of his coat brushing against his armour. Her lips parted in surprise at this action and her cold hands came up to cover his. At her touch, he suddenly became aware of the hub of people and voices around them and abruptly released her.

* * *

"What in Mahal's name took you so long, Fain?" Lothi snarled as the doors swung closed, approaching the captain of the guard who was wearing heavy and gleaming armour whereas the rest of the warriors were battle-scuffed and worn with use.

Fain tilted his head much like a bird would contemplate a worm. His face and jaw were very heavy-set beneath his large black beard and thick eyebrows, though his eyes were keen and sharp. "We did not know that you were among the company until you were before the doors," he said in a deceptively neutral voice, unphased by the angry and soaking wet young Dwarf before him.

"Yet you did not think to open them to help our kin anyway?" Lothi demanded, furiously swiping water away from his face.

"Our kin?" he repeated with an air of innocence, glancing towards where Thorin's company had gathered, his eyes lingering on the Hobbit. King Thorin and the lady who had saved his life were not among them: looking quickly around, Lothi saw them standing close together and talking intently. The woman was now wearing Thorin's coat and he had his fingers wrapped in the material, holding her to him. "Our first proper look at the strangers was a human woman wielding an Elvish blade. I saw no reason to risk the lives of our warriors against strangers, and against _Azog_ of all people," Fain continued.

"That was a bad decision, captain," Lothi said with quiet menace, newly contemplating the woman's position in the company. Outlandish and _impossible_ as the idea was, given the way she and Thorin were standing and the fact that she had been wearing the royal sigil earlier, it was very likely that Fain had almost allowed their kings betrothed, or at least the woman he was courting, to die before their gates.

Fain's eyes flashed dangerously, the first proper emotion he had showed. "Watch your tone, _sentry_," he growled in response. "You may be the son of a lord, but I do not answer to you."

"No, you answer to _me_," a familiar and booming voice said. Lothar, Lothi's father, stomped into the entryway, his long coat of office sweeping imperiously against the floor. His fathers eyes found his, taking a moment to assess his son and check that he was uninjured, then his cutting gaze was turned upon the captain of the guard. "Now what is going on here?"

There was silence.

"Fain, I asked you a question," Lord Lothar repeated sternly.

Fain's jaw was clenched, though he stepped forward to speak nevertheless. "We were aware of a company of orcs outside the gates and yet did not perceive them to be a threat. This company," he said with a slight sneer, "descended from the Gamril Stair and was promptly attacked, however we did not know who they were or their allegiances. Our first proper look at the strangers was a human and so I saw no reason to open the doors and risk anyone."

"You could see that most of the company were Dwarves and yet you thought it prudent to refuse your help?" King Thorin interjected furiously from where he was still standing with the woman, his hands abruptly releasing the fur of her coat and allowing her to rock back on her toes. "A defenceless woman asking for your aid and she is ignored because of her race?" he added with a low snarl, stepping up to tower over Fain, who had been ignorant of their kings presence in the company.

"Defenceless?" he heard the Lady Elizabeth say somewhat indignantly, though she was ignored.

"I – my lord king, I had not realised ..." the captain said, obviously shocked, his face whitening as if he had seen a ghost.

"Clearly," Thorin said, his voice cutting as he glared at the captain.

"Thorin," Lothar said as he inclined his head respectfully at their king, a note of surprise in his voice.

"Lothar," the king acknowledged in turn, addressing the lord of the fortress with Fain having been dismissed from his notice. "It has been a long time."

"Indeed," his father agreed, masking his surprise well. "What brings you to my doorstep, my lord king?"

"That is a long tale and one best told in private," Thorin said commandingly and then glanced at his company, who were standing together with many of them still holding their drawn weapons. "My men are tired and hungry, might they eat while we talk?" he asked, though it was more of a demand than a question.

"Certainly, we shall retire to my study," Lothar said obligingly. He then looked towards Lothi once more. "Will you permit my son to join us?" Lothi was pleased by this, wanting to know more of the kings journey. He recognised his fathers reasoning behind the request: not only was he was being groomed and trained to eventually take over the fortress, but his father would want to know his account of leading the company over the Stair and Fain's actions.

Thorin gave a short nod.

"Excellent. And bring your … companion with you," he said, his shrewd eyes not having missed the Lady Elizabeth's presence beside the king. "I am most curious to hear her account of what happened before the gates."

Lothi thought he saw her swallow nervously though she nevertheless straightened her shoulders and swept through the assembled garrison and out of the entryway after Thorin, cutting an unusual and yet impressive figure in her large coat, dripping wet hair and lack of shoes.

* * *

Thorin was aware of Elizabeth's unease in being singled out thus by the lord of the fortress. All eyes were on her after Lord Lothar's words and with the garrison who had come out to aid them, the captain of the guard and their company all gathered in the entryway she was under heavy scrutiny. He saw her shoot a look at the rest of the company and swallow nervously before visibly steeling herself and following him. The walk to Lothar's office was not a long one, but they were heading deeper into the mountain, through wrought and carved tunnels, warmly lit by flickering scones and candlelight.

The décor was nowhere near as fine as he remembered Erebor to be, this being a fortress as opposed to a palace, but the floors were nevertheless intricately carved into repeating patterns and there was silver inlaid into the walls, forming boarders of Dwarvish runes where it met the ceiling and twisting into knotted designs along the corridor.

Despite the initial lack of hospitality in their welcome, Thorin felt a lessening of the tension upon his shoulders at these familiar surroundings. He had not been to Ered Mithrin since he was a young prince after the fall of Erebor, but it was not dissimilar to his halls in Ered Luin. For the first time since leaving for this adventure he felt something of the familiarity of home.

Noticing that Elizabeth was no longer beside him, he glanced over his shoulder. She had paused, her fingers tracing one of the silver knots with her expression enraptured. "Elizabeth," he called softly and he suddenly realised that this was the first time she had ever seen inside Dwarf-halls. He was almost loath to disturb her when she was thus entranced.

Roused from her tactile exploration of the wall, she trotted up to meet him once more. "This is … it's _incredible_," she breathed, her eyes lifted to the carved ceiling.

Thorin couldn't help a small smile at her almost child-like wonder. This was a plain corridor in a fortress designed to be practical as opposed to grand. The designs that had her so engrossed were barely scratching the surface of Dwarvern architecture and it was nothing compared to his home. "Wait until you see Erebor," he said quietly. When she showed further signs of wanting to linger and examine the walls he took her arm to prompt her to keep walking, following Lothar and Lothi who were some ways ahead of them down the corridor.

They entered a large room that was richly carpeted and had hangings on the walls, a huge fireplace heating the room and making it feel warm and welcoming. There were two deep and cushioned chairs before the desk and, knowing that Elizabeth had been shivering in the entryway, he led her to the seat closest to the fire before sitting down himself. Lothar settled behind his great and somewhat cluttered desk. His son lingered behind him with his hands interlinked behind his back, clearly trying to appear formal despite being as drenched as Elizabeth was.

There was a steaming and tempting carafe of coffee on the desk along with several mugs, a jug of milk and pot of sugar. Lothar gestured towards the tray. "Will you pour the drinks, my lady?" he asked and Thorin blinked in surprise at this. Within their culture Dwarf-women of status would often act as cup-bearers at feasts and celebrations, a ceremonial position due to the women's place running the household: she would serve the lord of the halls first to demonstrate that there was nothing amiss with the fare and that it was fit for their guests. That tradition had gradually seeped into their etiquette: allowing someone to make you a drink was a sign of trust that you would do nothing to tamper with it.

Thorin saw the irritation flicker in her eyes and realised that they had no such customs in her world. "It is considered an honour," he said very quietly and, after glancing briefly at him, she acquiesced in pouring the coffee. Lothi and Lothar watched this brief exchange with great interest.

She poured coffee into four of the cups, her fingers moving with noiseless grace around the tray. She glanced questioningly at the two Dwarves on the other side of the desk and they nodded, prompting her to hand her their coffees black. She then ladened the two closest to them with milk and sugar before handing one to him, for which he was grateful – after travelling on limited rations in the wild they both clearly enjoyed these little luxuries.

Lothar took a single sip of his drink before placing it meticulously on the desk in front of him and folding his hands. "Now then, I am most interested to hear how you ended up appearing on my doorstep in such a spectacular manner, my lord king," he said and then his eyes shifted pointedly to Elizabeth. "And with such … _intriguing_ companions."

Lizzy held her cup of sweet, milky coffee in both hands, allowing the warmth to seep into her chilled fingers. Thorin's large coat and the heat of the fire beside her were doing an excellent job of warming her up after her dip in the icy mountain meltwater, though her clothes still felt uncomfortably damp and she was worried she might be dripping onto Lord Lothar's fancy chairs. As it was, she didn't have to talk very much at all and so could enjoy her drink in silence.

Thorin had launched into an account of their adventure, leaving very little out. He detailed their plan to reclaim the mountain and how they had all met in the Shire several weeks ago. He described her as a woman from another world and a friend of Gandalf's, who had been invited to join the company at his request though he didn't mention anything of her fore-knowledge. He then went on to outline their journey so far and the two other Dwarves listened in silence – Lothar's face was blank and impossible to read, but Lothi had his mouth hanging slightly open as Thorin told of their encounters with trolls, goblins, talking eagles and men that shape-shifted into bears. Lizzy could well understand his astonishment; after hearing all of their adventures detailed like that she could scarcely believe that they had done all of these things herself.

As they reached the part in the tale in which the company met the sentries on the Gamril Stair Lothar politely stopped Thorin and asked Lothi to continue the story. Lothi detailed how he had blindfolded her and Bilbo for their journey on the Stair, earning a nod of approval from his father, and then described his fall into the lake and how Lizzy had saved him.

Thorin then went on to make his request for boats so that the company could sail down the tributary that ran from the mountain and joined the forest river. They were just discussing how many boats they would need and that they intended to depart as soon as possible when there was a commotion outside the doors of the study.

" - I don't care if he is in a meeting with Mahal himself, I want to see my husband!" they heard a woman shouting and then the door flew open with all the force of a tornado, banging loudly off the wall as a Dwarf-woman stormed in. It was the first Dwarf-woman Lizzy had ever seen: she was dark haired, richly dressed and about four and a half feet tall. Her beard was not what she had expected, being far finer than the men's beards; it was dark and wispy, coming down thickly from her sideburns and thinning as it reached her chin. Her eyes scanned the room, quickly finding Lothi behind the desk.

"Ristil!" he cried, stepping around the desk and sweeping her into his arms.

She was placing kisses all over his face, her hands sweeping over him to check for injuries. "Are you alright, are you hurt?" she asked tenderly, making Lizzy feel that they were interrupting on a private moment even though she had been the one to burst into the office.

The woman had been followed by a tiny child, a little boy that she would have guessed was around four years old. "Adad, you're home!" the boy said happily, running to Lothi and holding his arms high to be picked up.

"Yes, I'm home," Lothi said with a smile as he picked up the boy. "And I'm fine, my love," he added since Ristil was still checking him for injuries.

She clutched her hands in the wet material of his tunic. "There are rumours flying everywhere, they say you fell from the cliffs -"

"I did," he told her and then nodded towards Lizzy. "This lady here saved my life. I would have drowned under the weight of my armour were it not for her."

Ristil turned to look at her, taking note of her and Thorin's presence for the first time. Her eyes were dark brown but very bright and piercing as she studied Lizzy. "So it is true, there is a human in the fortress," she said neutrally, her voice distinctly lacking in the enthusiasm she had shown a moment ago.

"Ristil, this is Lady Elizabeth Darrow and King Thorin Oakenshield," he said, making his wife's jaw drop as her gaze shifted to Thorin. "My lord king, my lady, this is my wife Ristil and my son Raes," Lothi added to them, gesturing between them with his hand.

Thorin simply inclined his head regally but Lizzy gave her friendliest, most dazzling smile. "Pleased to meet you both," she said as pleasantly as she could.

"And I am pleased to meet you, my lady," Ristil said slowly, carefully measuring each word. "If the rumours are to be believed you performed impressive feats outside the gates."

They were interrupted by Raes tugging on his fathers hair to get his attention. "Is he a real king?" the boy asked, his wide eyed gaze fixed on Thorin. "Like the kings of old in Erebor?"

"_Exactly_ like the kings of old in Erebor," Lizzy said, shooting a small smile at the scowling Thorin.

Raes's eyes had shifted to her and he was looking very confused. He studied her for a long moment with the kind of inquisitiveness only children are capable of, then turned to his father. "Why doesn't she have a beard, adad?"

Lothi looked panicked for a moment, turning to face her. "My apologies, he doesn't mean any offence," he said worriedly.

Lizzy laughed, not being offended in the slightest. "It's fine, children are naturally curious," she said. She put her empty mug down on the desk and lent forward to address the little Dwarfling. "I don't have a beard because I am a human. In humans only the men grow beards, not the women." She smiled at the boy. "I suppose I look quite funny to you, don't I?"

Raes had his head resting against his fathers damp shoulder and nodded shyly. He then bit his tongue between his teeth and cautiously reached out to touch her chin, his little fingers soft and curious on her face. He then withdrew his hand with a giggle.

Grinning, Lizzy reached out and did the same, feeling the dark and downy hairs that were already beginning to show on the little boy's chin. "That's a very fine beard you're growing there, Raes," she said.

Raes looked very proud at this. "It's going to be as long as my great-adad's one day," he said, pointing to Lothar, whose auburn beard was long enough to tuck into his belt. The lord of the fortress was watching this interaction intently, his index fingers steepled over his lips as he had his elbows resting on the desk. Lizzy noticed that there was much more approval in his eyes now than there had been when this meeting had first started.

"Father, may I be excused?" Lothi asked, clearly wanting to spend time with his family.

Lothar nodded. "Yes, but go and find your mother first and ask her to have the best rooms available prepared for Thorin and Lady Elizabeth," he ordered. "And the rest of his company, of course," he added as an afterthought.

Lothi nodded his understanding and then inclined his head respectfully to both Lizzy and Thorin before retreating from the study, his arm interlinked with Ristil's. Raes was looking over his fathers shoulder as he left and waved merrily at Lizzy as the door closed behind them.

The three of them were left alone and Lothar poured them all another cup of coffee from the carafe, the stone of the jug keeping it piping hot despite the time that had passed since they had been in his office. "A fine tale, my lord king," he said, adding milk and sugar to hers and Thorin's mugs. "I wish you all luck on your endeavour and I would be most happy to assist you in providing boats for your company," he said, passing the mugs to them. "However, there is one part of your tale that you have not told, one that I am most interested to hear."

"Indeed?" Thorin asked, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Lothar braced his elbows on the table once more, his index fingers resting on his chin. "Indeed ..." he said, his stern, narrowed eyes fixed on Lizzy. "Do not think it has escaped my notice that this intriguing young woman here is wearing the Firebeard crest."

* * *

The smell of proper food cooking was nothing short of divine, Kili thought as the company was led to the main hall where numerous tables were set out for eating. At the far end was a long table laden down with cold meats, breads and huge bowls of roasted vegetables. There were a large pot that had been bought up from the kitchens containing piping hot, mouthwatering meat stew that was keeping warm over some burning coals. He couldn't help a smile: this was only the simple fare intended for an everyday lunch and yet it beat even the best food they had eaten in the wilderness. _And_ there were rumours floating around already of a feast that was being planned for that evening, thanks to the visiting royalty gracing the fortress.

Speaking of rumours, he was not ignorant of the whispers and glances that were following the company everywhere. Their somewhat dramatic arrival was one thing, but the fact that their company contained the ruling line of Durin, a human woman and a Hobbit (two races that most Dwarves sequestered away in this fortress would never have seen) made them the subject of gossip. However the company was largely unbothererd by this. They sat down and ate together, enjoying a hearty lunch and laughing at Bilbo's looks of wonder around the great hall.

Kili was on his way to get seconds when he heard voices as he walked past a table of Dwarves. He recognised the speaker as Fain, the captain of the guard who had almost refused them entry to the fortress. From the crests that the small group wore he was able to identify them as being from the Ironfist tribe, the same tribe that his distant cousin Dain belonged to: Dain's mother, Nain, had a married into the Ironfist tribe in the Iron Hills, making Dain both an Ironfist and a Longbeard, as well as a descendent of Durin. In fact, he was Thorin's heir after himself.

"... human women are good for one thing and one thing only, the occasional tup in the back of a tavern while travelling," Fain was saying to the groups laughter, unaware of Kili within earshot. "That's probably why they keep her in their company, a convenient whore to use on the road."

Kili was frozen in place as he realised they were talking about Lizzy, his knuckles white on the rim of his plate. He slowly put his plate down on a nearby empty table and approached the group

"Then again, I would expect such low standards from a bunch of _exiles_ like them," Fain added, to the general agreement of the table. The captain of the guard didn't even see Kili's fist until it collided with his nose with a sickening crunch.

* * *

Lothar listened with his fingers pressed to his lips as Thorin slowly started to talk once more. The pair had seemed surprised by his observation that Lady Elizabeth was wearing his clan's crest, as if the hair-bead wasn't draped over her shoulder for all to see. The king spoke of how they had first met her, saying that she had been alone, far from home and friendless. At the advice of Gandalf, a Wizard whom they had all heard of, they had admitted her into their company and she had formed quick and strong friendships with several members of the group. He described Bifur, a somewhat reticent Firebeard who was disturbed in the head, only being able to speak Khuzdul. Apparently the woman had not allowed that to hold her back, speaking to him in a language similar to the Iglishmêk. Now, after having accepted their offer, she was making every effort to learn Khuzdul, their secret and protected language – the mark of trust that Thorin was showing in allowing her to learn the language spoke volumes for his opinion of the woman.

He further described how the Brothers Ur, Firebeards from Ered Luin, had offered for her to be a part of their family, adding that had they not done so he suspected that his young nephews, the princes, would not have been long in making her a similar offer.

As it was, Lothar found that he could not fault this young woman who had saved his sons life. She appeared polite and friendly upon first acquaintance, but whether he wanted to defy tradition and be the first elder to allow a non-Dwarf into one of the clans, no doubt displeasing the majority of Dwarves in the fortress, was another matter entirely.

Once again, their meeting was disturbed by yet another commotion outside. There was a swift knock and then the door was pushed open. Fain was shoved inside hissing and spitting like a scalded cat and sporting an impressively bloody nose. He was being held by the scruff of the neck by a Dwarf that Lothar recognised as Dwalin, having met him some time after the destruction of Erebor. They were followed by the youngest prince trailing sullenly behind them with a bleeding lip.

Both Thorin and the Lady Elizabeth leapt to there feet at the sight of the injured prince. "Kili, are you alright?" she asked worriedly, guiding him to sit down in her chair.

"I'm fine, Lizzy," he grumbled, his tongue darting out to taste the blood on his lip. Lothar realised that _Lizzy_ must be a shortened version of her first name, emphasising the intimacy between her and the young princes and corroborating with Thorin's account. She was knelt down beside him, trying to look at his injury.

"What in Mahal's name has happened here?" Lothar rumbled, getting to his feet and glaring at the two injured Dwarves. This day was becoming far too eventful for his liking.

"I'll tell you what happened!" Fain snapped angrily, jerking free of Dwalin's hold. "This _runt_ of a prince attacked me in the middle of the dining hall with no good reason."

"Is that true?" Thorin asked, looking sternly down at his nephew.

"No," Kili said, slumped in his chair but nevertheless glaring hatefully at Fain. "I had a very _good_ reason for attacking him in the middle of the dining hall."

"_Kili_," Thorin said warningly, his displeasure evident in the hard lines of his face.

"He was talking badly of Lizzy and our company, uncle," the young prince said, looking up into his kings face. "He called her -" he hesitated, glancing at her, and then muttered the word _whore_ in Khuzdul.

Thorin's face abruptly darkened, his hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword. Lady Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "I'm guessing that this is a word that hasn't been covered in my Khuzdul lessons yet," she said neutrally from where she was kneeling beside Kili's chair.

"Is this true?" Lothar demanded of Fain and was treated to sullen, guilty silence in response. He sighed and sank back down to his chair. "Fain, you have displeased me enough for one day. If you have such opinions of our guests then you keep them to yourself, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," Fain muttered mutinously.

"We shall discuss your behaviour later, in the meantime return to your post. I do not want to hear one peep out of you until tonight."

"I'll see him out," Dwalin said with a growl, practically shoving his captain of the guard out of the study.

"Why did you start a fight?" the Lady Elizabeth asked as they left, still trying to look at his split lip. "I knew that the Dwarves probably wouldn't like me very much, I don't really care what names they call me."

Kili sighed, catching her wrist as she tried to wipe blood from his face. "Lizzy …" he said, his voice quiet and tender. "I … I know that you have your brothers back home and that the Brothers Ur are now your kin, but ..."

"But?" she prompted gently as he trailed off and rubbed a hand over his face, clearly uncertain of his words.

The young prince swallowed, his eyes returning to the woman kneeling beside him. "I know we are not kin _really_, but … but you're the only sister I've got, Lizzy," he said, giving her a small, sad smile. "And if someone insults you then I am going to defend your honour," he said firmly, protectively. His eyes then dropped to his lap. "Does that make me a dork again?" he asked self-deprecatingly, though Lothar did not recognise meaning of the word used.

She was clearly fighting a smile at his words. "Yes, Kili, it absolutely makes you a dork," she said with a hint of playfulness. "But thank you," she added, leaning forwards to press her lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss. "I'm proud to call you my brother too, you know."

Kili smiled properly for the first time since entering the study and pulled her into a quick, familial embrace. Lothar couldn't help but remember Thorin's words about this woman forming strong bonds with the company, seeing the evidence of this before him. Thorin cleared his throat, ending the two peoples embrace. "Elizabeth, will you leave us a moment?" he asked.

Recognising that Thorin wished to speak to his nephew in private, Lothar got to his feet also. "Lady Elizabeth, shall I escort you to the sleeping quarters? There are no doubt rooms being set up for you where you can bathe and change clothes."

She smiled at him, clearly pleased with his suggestion. "That would be fantastic, thank you."

Lothar nodded to Thorin. "Feel free to make use of my study."

Thorin inclined his head in reply and Lothar held the door open for the Lady Elizabeth. She stopped before Thorin as she made to leave the room. "Do _not_ go too hard on him," she said sternly, meeting the kings eyes easily and confidently. Thorin did not respond to this beyond simply looking at her, but she must have recognised something in his eyes since she nodded as if something had been decided and then swept from the room.

Lothar hid a smile as he escorted her to where she would be sleeping, answering her questions about the fortress and the meanings of the carvings on the walls as he did so. A human woman from another world who was practically siblings to the princes and had no qualms in giving their king orders … yes, she was most intriguing indeed.

* * *

Thorin stood leaning against Lothar's desk, his arms folded across his chest as he looked sternly down at his youngest nephew. Kili was slumped in his chair, dourly awaiting the telling off he was no doubt anticipating. There was a very long silence between them, in which Kili kept glancing fearfully up at him before casting his eyes down once more. This was a tactic he had utilised with both nephews as they grew up, refusing to say a word until they spoke first. The last time he had seen Kili looking so guilty had been when he had been practising his archery away from the safety of the shooting range and had nearly injured someone.

Eventually, Kili sighed. "Are you very angry with me, uncle?" he asked worriedly, looking up at him.

Thorin measured his words carefully before he spoke. "As your king, I expect you to behave in a manner befitting to one of my heirs. That includes not picking fights with our allies," he said sternly.

Kili looked down into his lap, shamefaced.

"_But_ ..." Thorin added as he moved from his position in front of the desk to sit down beside his nephew. "As your uncle and as Elizabeth's friend … I say well done," he said, surprising Kili into looking up with his jaw slacked. "What he called her was inexcusable."

Kili blinked rapidly as he digested these words. "So you and Lizzy are friends now?" he asked after a long moment.

Thorin gave him a _look_ – that was not what he had intended his nephew to take from his speech. Kili grinned at him. "That's good. I was a bit worried after Goblin-town that you two would never see eye to eye."

Remembering his anger and actions towards her after Goblin-town, Thorin felt something akin to shame. Elizabeth had not deserved his wrath that day and he had never truly apologised to her for that. "She is …" he said, trying to articulate his friendship with their advisor. "She is an unusual woman, but I am starting to see her virtues."

Kili was still grinning. "Well you're not the only one," he said cheerfully. "Did you know that Beorn proposed to her?"

"I beg your pardon?" Thorin asked sharply, his thoughts halted in their tracks at this nugget of information. Beorn had _proposed_ to Elizabeth? The time he had been present while they had stayed in his home had been little over a few hours, and yet that was apparently enough time for the bear-man to decide that he wanted to take her to wife. The idea was preposterous.

"Apparently he asked her to stay and have children with him or something," Kili told him as his mind whirled, his eyes carefully monitoring his uncles reaction. "I don't know the details though."

Thorin absently nodded, consumed by his thoughts. "And she refused him?" he checked with Kili, suddenly wondering if she intended to return to Beorn's halls after their quest had finished.

Kili snorted in amusement. "Obviously."

He braced both elbows on the arms of his chair, one hand covering the lower part of his face as he sat deep in thought. When she wasn't dirty and travel-stained he knew Elizabeth to be somewhat fair of face and form, but the knowledge that she was considered desirable to others was … unsettling.

"Uncle?" Kili said quietly and Thorin realised he had been silent for several long minutes. He forced his mind away from their advisor. "I … I am very sorry to have embarrassed you like that," he said, returning to their original topic.

"I think I would have been more displeased had you not stood up for your friend and our company," he told his nephew honestly, recognising in this moment how young he still was. "The lesson to be learnt here is that there are better ways to resolve disputes than with your fists."

Kili nodded his understanding and Thorin rose to his feet. "Now, have you eaten?"

"A little, but I got somewhat distracted," he said wryly, looking down at the bruised knuckles of his right hand.

"Come, let's go find some food," Thorin said, leading the way from Lothar's study.

Kili followed obediently after him, his good cheer returning. "Apparently there is to be a feast tonight," he told him as they walked. "Music, dancing, everything."

Thorin smiled at his words. His nephews had been forced to grow up quickly on this adventure and they deserved the chance for some merriment.

* * *

The room – or should she say _suite_ – that Lothar led her to was nothing short of gorgeous, containing a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathing chamber with a huge copper bathtub. Much like Lothar's study, it had sumptuous and finely woven rugs covering every inch of the cold stone floor and beautiful hangings on the walls, though these ones were much more feminine in taste. The main colour themes were red, brown and gold, which made the room feel very warm and inviting. There was also a large and merrily burning fire in the sitting room that was pleasantly toasting the air so that she was no longer pulling Thorin's large coat around her damp clothes for warmth.

The last time she had been in a bedroom this fine had been back in Rivendell, but while the Elves favoured open spaces, gauzy materials and silk sheets, in contrast the bed here was stacked high with cosy looking furs, fleecy blankets and invitingly thick pillows.

_Decadent_, was the word that sprung to Lizzy's mind.

There were three Dwarf-women within the sitting room. She had already met Ristil, but Lothar quickly introduced her to the two other ladies, his wife Autha and daughter Amma. Autha was a large and stately woman, her presence being nothing short of domineering with her thick beard and impressive jewellery. Meanwhile Amma was timid and shy: Lizzy could see the resemblance to Lothi in her auburn hair, tumbling down her back in pretty curls, though she seemed several years younger.

"So, you are the human woman that has the fortress buzzing like a disturbed hornets nest," Lady Autha said, managing to look down her nose at her despite being a few inches shorter than Lizzy. She sniffed disdainfully. "I thought you would be taller."

"I am sorry to disappoint you," Lizzy said cautiously, unsure of how to reply to that comment.

"You do not disappoint me," she said firmly, her gaze penetrating. "You saved my sons life and for that we owe you our thanks and our hospitality," this was said almost begrudgingly. "You will find bathwater already in the tub and clothing on the bed. My daughter, Amma, has volunteered to give you a tour of the fortress once you have finished bathing," she finished and at her words Amma dropped her head and avoided eye-contact with Lizzy.

"Thank you, my lady," she said, doubting that Amma had made such an offer since she seemed on the verge of bolting from the room out of shyness, her hands twisting nervously in the front of her dress. It must be hard to be the daughter of a woman with such presence and force of personality.

With the promise of a tour, Lizzy was soon left alone in her temporary bedroom. She checked the temperature of the bathwater, finding it to be slightly too hot, and so explored the room while it cooled. The three rooms were connected by archways as opposed to doors, though there was a screen to block the bathtub from view when looking in from the living room. Interestingly though, there was a single large wooden door in the living room that was locked when she tried to open it. Seeing no sign of a key, she shrugged and continued looking around her.

It clearly wasn't lived in regularly, containing none of the homey touches to make it personal to its occupant, but it was finely decorated with beautiful ornaments of stone, crystal and glass. What interested her most, however, were the large candles burning on several surfaces, the only illumination in a room with no windows. They were half covered with spheres of coloured glass, casting warm circles of red, orange, blue and green light around the room.

After several minutes the bath had cooled enough for her to get in and so she left her damp clothes drying by the fire and Thorin's coat hanging on the screen. Unlike the Elves, who had favoured clear, scented warm water when she had bathed in Rivendell, this bath was packed with bubbles. She instantly dunked her head under the water and lay staring up at the beautiful ceiling for several long minutes with the bubbles playing around her face, the sounds distorted through the water in her ears.

Eventually the water began to cool and she sat up, interlocking her hands above her head and stretching until she heard something pop in her back.

Then she paused, instinctively hunching down in her bathwater. She thought she had heard the snick of a lock turning. Just as she was about to dismiss it as water in her ears she heard the faint but unmistakable creak of a door being pushed open. Her heart pounded as her eyes fell on Naethring, which was leaning casually against the bath screen. No, she wasn't imagining it: the creak of the door was followed by the faint thud of slow footsteps.

There was someone in her room.

* * *

… **Sorry, I do like my cliff-hangers!**

**Reviews are welcome, if you have any more Dwarf-headcanon's you want to see in Ered Mithrin let me know!**

**You can also follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars**


	28. Forging friendships

"**Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words."  
George Eliot**

* * *

Kili led Thorin back to the dining hall where they found that most of their company had left, with only Bombur and Dori remaining to enjoy the assorted plates of food on offer. They discovered that Bofur and Balin had taken Bilbo to explore the fortress, whereas the rest of the company had gone to perform various tasks that needed doing before their early departure on the morrow, such as having any worn clothes fixed and tending to any notched weapons. Both Dwarves tried to convince Thorin to stay in Ered Mithrin longer than one night but he replied that they were on a tight schedule: they had already lost several days in their long march northwards to the fortress – had they followed Elizabeth path they would have been deep in the heart of Mirkwood by now and that was distance they needed to recover.

Lothar came to join them, having escorted Elizabeth to her room: he loaded up a plate and seated himself opposite Thorin. He suggested that after they had finished eating they should go down to the water-gate to look out boats for the company since it was possible that the boatswain would not have enough to accommodate a company of fifteen and so vessels would have to be commissioned to be crafted overnight. Thorin nodded his head at this, his mouth full.

Kili nudged his arm while he was eating and pointed out a table on the other side of the hall. There were three large, heavily armoured and burly looking Dwarves seated there talking intently among themselves, though the empty plates still on the table were evidence of them previously having been a larger group. He whispered that they had been Fain's companions, the ones laughing at his comments about Elizabeth and their company. Thorin narrowed his eyes at them, recognising them to be Ironfists, a tribe that had been troublesome since the awakening of the Dwarves.

Lothar had followed their gaze, noticing what had captured their attention. "Ah, the Ironfists," he said between a swig of ale. "As you know they largely live in the Iron Hills but some have joined other colonies. Why they do so is beyond me, they are largely considered to be a warlike and xenophobic tribe."

This was indisputable. Millennia ago they had seized and occupied Mount Gundabad before Durin II had marched an army northwards to rout their renegade kin, who had then retreated eastwards – something he had not mentioned to Elizabeth when recounting the history of Gundabad to her the previous afternoon. While there had not been a civil war among the Dwarves for centuries, it was rumoured that some Ironfists still held resentment to the Longbeards.

Fortunately, Thorin knew this to be false. His cousin Dain was head of the Ironfist clan in the Iron Hills and was one of his closest confidants as well as being third in line for the throne.

"There used to be a few more of them in the fortress but now there is only a small handful," Lothar continued, nodding towards the table. "Most of them went out one day for a hunting party several weeks ago and were set upon by orcs. Only Fain survived."

This knowledge did not make Thorin feel any more hospitable to the captain of the guard, not after his words about Elizabeth.

"In fact until today there has not been an orc attack or raid since," Lothar continued with a scowl. "It was as if they had vanished from these mountains."

Thorin was about to reply to this when one of the Ironfist Dwarves at the table noticed his scrutiny. He said something quickly to his companions and then roughly pushed back the bench, causing it to scrape audibly on the stone. He felt Kili tense next to him as the Dwarf approached with heavy footsteps.

"My lord king," the Dwarf said gruffly as he reached their table, barely inclining his head into a bow. "There are rumours circling the fortress. Not only is the human woman a part of your company, she has been offered a place in the Firebeard clan," he said disdainfully.

"What of it?" Thorin asked deeply, annoyed by his approach.

"I would hear it contradicted, my lord king," the Dwarf replied pointedly.

Thorin took a slow sip of his ale, choosing his words carefully since he knew it would not be long before they too spread around the fortress. "To do so would be a falsehood."

The Dwarfs hand twitched almost imperceptibly towards the hilt of the knife in his belt in anger. "You mean to say you have allowed a human into our clans?"

"Her adoption has yet to be sanctified, though I saw no reason to contest it," he said, his voice deep, firm and resonant.

"And will you sanctify her?" the Dwarf demanded, turning aggressively towards Lothar.

Lothar slowly chewed and swallowed his mouthful of food before replying in a neutral tone. "I have not yet decided," he said, picking up his tankard to take a sip of ale.

The Ironfist Dwarf was positively vibrating with furious energy, his eyebrows lowered heavily. "To allow a human into our clans defies every tradition we uphold," he snarled. "Compared to us they are _weak_, soft as the mud-huts they came from. And for a _woman_ to be offered such a place -"

"_Enough_," Thorin said loudly, rising to his feet and inadvertently capturing the attention of half of the hall with his booming voice. "Elizabeth Darrow is dear to my entire company and regardless of Lothar's decision she will always have our friendship," he said with soft menace, towering threateningly several inches above the Dwarf due to his Longbeard heritage. "Since you pay heed to gossip I advise that you spread this word about her instead: anyone who speaks out against her in such a way again will deal with my anger personally."

There was no way that the Dwarf could respond to that without provoking his ire further and so he made the wise decision to return to his table, his fury evident in every stomping step he took.

Thorin glanced down at his mostly full plate, noticing the way his companions were looking up at him in a mixture of surprise and thoughtfulness. He sighed. "I have quite lost my appetite," he told Lothar. "You said earlier that rooms had been prepared for us."

Recognising what he was asking, Lothar nodded. "Aye, go and refresh yourself after your journey, we will meet at the water-gate when you are done," he said. "You remember where the guest quarters are?" Thorin jerked his head, indicating the affirmative. "You are in the third door down to the right."

"My thanks, Lothar," he said and clapped Kili lightly on the shoulder before departing from the hall, very aware of the scrutiny he was receiving from other Dwarves.

He made his way quickly through the fortress, ignoring the glances, stares and even flirtatious smiles of the people he encountered. Despite it being over a century since he had last been in Ered Mithrin he remembered the way well and arrived at the guest quarters without incident. Locating the room he had been assigned, he pushed open the door and allowed himself a small smile at its decadence. It was a suite containing a bedroom, bathing chamber and sitting room. After months of sleeping (or what counted as sleep for him anyway) on the cold, hard ground while travelling the large bed covered high with furs looked inviting in the extreme.

The room was decorated with dark blue hangings, shot through with silver threads and embroidered designs. The furniture was all made of sturdy looking dark wood, matching the dark brown furs of the thick rugs and bedding. He also found a large harp in one corner, no doubt placed there on Lothar's orders: when he had visited Ered Mithrin previously, shortly after the loss of Erebor, playing the harp had been one of the few things to calm his mind. It was good of Lord Lothar to remember such a thing and be considerate enough to provide a harp should the urge to play strike him.

Knowing he didn't have time for a proper bath, he located a jug of hot water and filled the ewer on the desk. He then set about removing his belt, tunic and armour. He was unlacing his dark blue under-shirt when he saw the large, closed wooden door in the sitting area, something he had not noticed in his initial evaluation of the room.

Crossing the room, he tried the handle, frowning when he found it to be locked. He crouched down to examine the keyhole, recognising it as being a simple pin-tumbler lock that fitted a large key. Finding no hint of the key in question either around the door or in any of the empty draws of the room, he contemplated the door thoughtfully. He found that he did not like the idea of a door leading to an unknown location with the key missing, knowing that anyone could simply enter the room upon a whim.

Deciding to investigate further, he searched the room for something that could be used as a lock pick, eventually settling on part of a wire hanger he found in the armoire. He twisted it deftly into shape and crouched in front of the door once more. Inserting the make-shift pick into the lock, it was scant seconds before he heard it give a satisfying click.

He grabbed Orcrist from the bed and slowly turned the handle, pushing open the door with a faint creak. He blinked in surprise as he found himself in a warm, red toned chamber that contrasted elegantly to his. The two rooms were clearly a lord and lady chamber, with some couples within their culture electing not to share a bed upon a regular basis even after marriage and occupying adjoining rooms instead.

What was strange though was the fact that a fire was merrily burning in the hearth and he could see through the archway leading to the bedchamber that there were Dwarvish clothes draped over the fur covers of the bed … surely they hadn't given him a room attached to one that was already occupied.

He sensed movement behind him and turned swiftly with Orcrist instinctively poised to attack – it clashed against Elizabeth's sword and force of his blow pushed her back against the wall beside the archway leading to the bathroom that she had apparently just emerged from. They stared at each other, their swords locked in the air between them and their bodies close together, with her back braced against the wall. They were both utterly astonished by the others presence.

"Jesus _tap-dancing_ Christ, Thorin!" she snarled as she registered that it was him and not the assailant she had apparently been expecting. "You scared the _crap_ out of me!" She released the tension of her arm, dropping her sword to one side. He realised that she was absolutely drenched for the second time that day, her hair dripping down her face. She was wearing his coat once more, her left hand holding it firmly closed around her – and based on her wet hair and the half-full bathtub that he could see through the archway behind her, it was very likely that she was wearing nothing _but_ his coat.

He swallowed hard.

"My sincerest apologies," he said gruffly, half turning away from her even though she was fairly decently covered by his coat. In doing so he noticed her familiar clothing that he had missed before drying in front of the fire.

"What the _hell_ are you doing in here?" she demanded angrily, shoving her wet hair out of her face and glaring at him.

"It appears we have been given an adjoining room," he said by way of explanation, nodding towards the still open door.

She stomped past him and looked into his room. "Huh," he heard her say as his eyes reluctantly followed the downward descent of some bubbles that were stubbornly clinging to her legs after her bath. "Why would they do that?"

Why indeed, Elizabeth was not his wife and so there was no reason for them to have been given lord and lady chambers. "It is probably because these are the best rooms available," he said logically, raising his gaze from her legs and thinking on how there hadn't been a key anywhere to be found, effectively making them two separate rooms.

She turned to him with a frown. "This door was locked," she said, echoing his thoughts.

"Aye," he replied. She was still frowning and so he decided to elaborate. "I picked the lock."

"You _picked_ the _lock_?" she repeated with clear incredulity, giving him a thoroughly bemused look. "What the hell is wrong with you, don't you trust them?"

Thorin scowled, but didn't reply.

"You … you don't trust them," Elizabeth said slowly as realisation dawned in her grey eyes.

"Our welcome was not entirely what I anticipated," he admitted reluctantly.

She snorted at him. "Did you expect them to roll out the red carpet?"

While he did not recognise the significance of the carpet she spoke of the derision in her voice was easy to detect. "I did not expect outright hostility," he told her. While he had expected an adverse reaction to her presence, Kili's account of Fain criticising their company as being _exiles_ as opposed to the ruling line of Durin worried him.

"I know Fain was a bit of an asshat, but Lothi and Lothar seem okay," she said, tilting her head at him. "Didn't kick me out of the fortress when he saw this anyway," she added, flicking her hair-bead with one hand.

This reminded him of the conversation he'd had with the Ironfist Dwarf in the main hall. "News of your adoption is spreading around the fortress, you should prepare yourself for comments," he warned her.

She sighed, slumping her shoulders and causing the collar of his coat to slip down a little. "Great," she muttered sarcastically but he wasn't paying heed to her words. His attention had been momentarily captured by the barest hint of cleavage she was now showing. It was strange, he had seen her in less when she wore the blue dress from her world that she favoured, but somehow since she was mostly covered by the leather and fur of his coat it made the bits of collar-bone and leg she was showing more alluring.

Remembering Kili's words about Beorn's proposal to her, he raised his gaze to her face, curiously trying to trace the features that the bear-man had found attractive in her. He supposed that her skin was clear and soft-looking, though some would consider it to be marred by the smattering of faint freckles as a result of travelling under the sun; her eyes were also somewhat pretty, being a mercurial silvery-grey; her lower lip, so often twisted into wry, half smirks and smiles, was fuller than her top one, whereas her arched eyebrows and pert nose often gave her an impudent and mischievous expression.

By Dwarvern standards she would be considered too delicate looking, strange and foreign with her lack of a beard, but he was forced to acknowledge that Beorn was right in his assessment of her. Her features, when considered individually, were actually fairer than he had initially thought – and it had taken the knowledge that others found her attractive for him to realise this.

* * *

Lizzy was acutely aware that she was stark naked beneath Thorin's coat, with the leather doing funny things against her bare skin. After having told her of the rumours that were spreading he was staring at her in a peculiar, contemplative way with his head tilted to one side and his sword still half raised in his hand. He had shed his armour before picking the lock to her room and so was wearing just his dark blue under-shirt, stained with his sweat after weeks of travel.

The strange examination Thorin was giving her was interrupted by a faint knock on the main door to her room and Lizzy called for the person to come in without really thinking about what the scene in the room would look like to whoever it was outside.

Amma timidly poked her head inside – only for her eyes to widen to the size of saucers upon seeing Thorin. "My apologies -" she started to say, instinctively ducking out of the room.

"No, Amma, it's fine, come in," Lizzy insisted, tossing her sword down onto one of the seats in the sitting area in an attempt to look less intimidating to the shy girl and heading towards the bedroom to look for the clothes that Lady Autha had said she's left. "I'll just be a few more minutes, need to actually get dressed … Hey, can I ask why we have been given an adjoining room?" she called through the archway of the bedroom, having located some leggings and a tunic on the bed, along with a very fancy looking dress.

"These suites were the only ones available that were suitable for royalty," Amma said nervously from where she was hovering by the door, twisting her hands in front of her as she glanced at Thorin. "Adad said you were to have the finest possible room too, so we thought if we locked the door …"

"Right," Lizzy said, examining some lace-up, soft leather shoes she had also been given, very aware that her sturdy walking boots were now somewhere on the bottom of the lake outside. Explaining their loss would be difficult when she went back to her world.

"If we have caused offence -"

"Noooo, it's fine," she said, poking her head out of the bedroom to reassure the poor girl who still looked on the verge of bolting. "Well, I was a little startled by Thorin bursting in on me while I was in the bath, but it was fine," she said cheekily in an attempt to make Amma smile - all she did was glance fearfully between her and the darkly scowling king and blush, her eyes cast down on the floor.

Lizzy could see how nervous Thorin's presence was making the Dwarf-girl and she needed to get changed anyway. "And on that note, you can get out," she ordered him, pointing to the door leading to his own room.

Thorin gave her a withering look at her demand and stalked into his suite without another word, making Lizzy smirk. "Amma, I'll just be a second," she told the girl, still trying to be as friendly as possible.

"I – um, I met your companion, the little man," Amma said, reaching behind her and revealing her rucksack, bow and quiver of arrows and fleece. "He asked me to give you these."

Lizzy thanked her, fervently grateful that she could don fresh underwear and a bra from her pack as opposed to walking around the fortress commando. She left Amma still hovering awkwardly by the door and quickly got dressed. The leggings and tunic were both slightly too big for her, but a belt cinched tight around the waist stopped things from falling down.

"Right, nearly ready," she said with a smile, emerging from the bedroom and throwing herself down into one of the seats to lace up the shoes. "See you later, Thorin!" she hollared in the direction of the door to his room but received no reply – not that she had really been expecting one, she thought as she joined Amma in the corridor.

"Are - are you and King Thorin -"

"... Yes?" Lizzy prompted, since Amma had started a question and then abruptly cut herself off.

"Nothing, my lady," the girl replied demurely.

"Please, call me Lizzy," she insisted, reminded of when she had first met Fili and Kili and they had kept calling her _my lady_.

They reached a fork at the end of the corridor where the guest wing was situated and Amma hesitated. "Is there anything in particular that you would like to see first?"

Lizzy thought for a moment. After travelling for so long with a group of Dwarves she had become immensely interested in their culture, though she knew that she had only seen the microcosm of their society within the members of the company. "Well, this is my first time in Dwarf-halls … do you guys do things like mining and forging here?"

"Of course," Amma replied, seemingly surprised that she had requested to see such things. "I believe me brother said he was going down to the forges. Follow me, my lady."

* * *

Lothi had indeed gone down to the forges after leaving his wife organising Lady Elizabeth's room with his mother and sister. After the events of that morning he found himself in need of new armour and since he didn't fancy the dive into the icy mountain meltwaters to retrieve his breastplate he would be forced to forge a new one. However, there were some benefits to this: not only could he adjust the style, adding some chain mail around the neck and arms for ease of movement, he had decided to take his son with him to teach him some of the basics of the craft.

As it was, he was not able to get very much actual smithing done, despite the forge being largely deserted with the only other occupant being Davlin, the old smith and a good friend of Lothi's. Raes was far more interested in actually taking part in the forging process as opposed to observing as he was meant to be doing, and so he had decided to show his son how to make simple chainmail links, much to Davlin's amusement.

He had very carefully supervised and assisted his son in pumping the bellows, heating the raw iron until it was red hot. They had then removed it from the fire and pulled it through a gauge, turning it into a wire of medium thickness. Raes himself cut it into smaller pieces, though many of them were slightly different lengths, and Lothi helped him twist them into almost complete circles. These were then cooled in a water barrel, with Raes very much enjoying the hissing and spluttering steam as the hot metal was submerged.

They were in the process of linking the small circles of metal together and riveting them shut when they were interrupted. Lothi was surprised to see his sister entering the forge, followed by the Lady Elizabeth, who was now wearing simple Dwarvish clothes and looking curiously around her. Amma smiled at him, though knowing of his sisters natural shyness he could see her unease in being coerced by their mother into giving the human woman a tour.

Raes noticed his aunts presence and leapt to his feet. "Aunt Amma, look what I made!" he said, proudly presenting the small patch of interlinked rings to the two women. "It's my first forging!"

Lothi was doing his best to hide his pride. A first forging was usually a big event in a young Dwarves life, normally taking the form of a dagger or tool and marking the entrance from childhood to boyhood. Since Lothi himself had done the vast majority of the work these small rings couldn't really count as Raes's proper first forging, but he felt like a satisfied father nevertheless.

Lady Elizabeth knelt down and looked at the rings. "He did these himself?" she asked, surprised and impressed.

"Yes, Lady Lizbet," Raes answered, completely butchering her name in the process; meanwhile at the same time Lothi grinned at her and said, "Mostly, my lady."

She was smiling too. "Please, call me Lizzy," she said with friendly ease.

Raes gave her a toothy grin, clearly pleased with how impressed she was by his work. "Lady Lizzy," he repeated happily, managing that pronunciation far better.

Having heard the new voices, Davlin came over from behind the bellows to investigate. "Master Davlin,I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Lady Elizabeth expressed an interest in seeing one of the forges," Amma said politely; she had known Davlin for years and so was very comfortable with the old smith, unlike with most others.

"Think nothing of it, my girl, it's not every day that I see two such pretty faces in my forge," the smith said, smiling behind his great black beard before turning his gaze to curiously look at the human woman. "So you are the Lady Elizabeth. Young Lothi here has been telling me how you saved his life, singing your praises to the sky." Elizabeth gave a modest grin at this and the smith continued. "Is this your first time in a forge?"

"Yes, I am quite curious to see how everything works," she said, glancing curiously around at the bellows and tools.

"Well, don't just stand there, my girl," he said amicably, flapping his arms and guiding her over to the workbench. The smith was notoriously friendly towards people he liked and grumpy to others who came in with requests and commissions: apparently the Lady Elizabeth's actions and Lothi's words of praise had been enough for Davlin to decide that she was worth his time. "The best way to observe is to take part, now this here is a wrench ..."

* * *

After a hasty wash Thorin had re-donned his armour and tunic and headed down to the water-gate. A spring that became the tributary for the forest-river started deep within the mountain and was carefully directed with ducts down to this gate, with a clever system of funnels and pipes swelling it with meltwater from the side of the mountain. The result by the time it reached the large water-gate chamber was an artificial channel that ran clear through the vast, cavernous chamber, about two fathoms wide and a fathom deep, deep enough to support small vessels before they were sent out through the gate. There was also a deep pool containing several boats, an artificial harbour that could be connected to the channel with just the turning of a lever.

He met with Lothar and was introduced to the boatswain, quickly detailing what he required. The old Dwarf was hunched and seemed to rival Oin for being hard of hearing, but he nodded along to Thorin's requests nevertheless. Most of the boats were kept in an adjoining storage chamber, with the harbour being too small to contain them all, and the boatswain led them through to examine potential vessels. Thorin's attention was caught by a simple boat of medium size that could comfortably seat five, possibly six at a pinch.

The boatswain noticed the line of his gaze and shook his head. "Too big," he said, continuing down to the smaller boats.

"Would a smaller amount of larger boats not be better?" Thorin put to him.

He shook his head, leading him to a collection of small, simple rowing boats that were barely big enough for three. "Some of the river that you will have to navigate will be narrow, the bigger boats are harder to manoeuvre." He waved his hand at the narrow boats, clearly firm in his opinion on this. "Two to a boat."

"Two?" Thorin repeated with mild incredulity: with a company of fifteen that would give them at least eight boats to manage, a far larger number than he had been hoping for. "These boats can carry more than two."

"Two," the boatswain said firmly. "You will need provisions. You should not drink any water that you find in Mirkwood, even if it has been boiled first. With boats this size a water-barrel can fit in each boat," he finished, indicating the storage areas in the bow and stern of the small vessels.

Remembering Beorn's words, Thorin decided to yield to the Dwarves wisdom on this. "Very well, we will take them."

* * *

Amma stood in the corner of the forge near to the door, instinctively trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Since all the equipment to make chainmail was out Davlin was showing the human woman the process, eagerly assisted by Raes. Her nephew now apparently considered himself an expert on forging after a single afternoon spent with his father.

Lothi left them to it and wandered over to join her, keeping one careful eye on Raes as Davlin supervised the handling of the hot metal.

"She wanted to see the forge?" he asked quietly.

"The forge and the mines," Amma clarified with a slight nod, glancing at her brother. "I believe mother expected me to be taking her to the weavers and possibly the market stalls."

"What do you make of her?" he questioned.

Amma tilted her head to one side, thinking for a moment. "She is … unusual. Very friendly and talkative, but strange too," she replied. In fact it had been nice not having to talk much on their way down to the forge, with the human woman voicing what appeared to be her every thought running through her mind as they walked. "You may have been right about her and King Thorin," she added softly: when he had come to find both her and her mother to organise rooms he had mentioned his suspicion that the two of them had an understanding of sorts, an idea that their mother had vehemently rejected.

"Oh?" Lothi said, raising his brows.

"When I came to give her the tour he was in her room," she whispered, careful not to be overheard by the woman in question.

Lothi grinned at her. "Tsk tsk, spreading rumours, Amma?" he tutted.

Amma's eyes widened and she felt a sudden flush of guilt, wondering if she should have held her tongue and thankful that she hadn't revealed any further information, like the woman's state of dress upon her arrival. "I do not mean to be a gossip!"

Her brother laughed and threw an arm around her shoulder. "I was teasing you, sister dear."

His playfulness coaxed a small smile to her lips. They fell into silence and spent some minutes observing the unusual trio by the bellows. It was strange seeing such a tall woman, she must have been slightly over five foot and had several inches extra height on the bulky smith, positively towering over Raes. With her distracted by the smith, Amma took the opportunity to actually look at her properly, without fearfully lowering her gaze. The woman's figure was not what would be considered fashionable by Dwarf standards, being far too slim; the belted tunic she wore showed that she did indeed have curves, only much more slender than the voluptuous Dwarf women. However, her hair was a pretty shade of gold and she had bright eyes.

"I confess, I am relieved," she said softly to her brother, breaking the silence.

"Relieved?" Lothi repeated.

Amma measured her words carefully, thinking of the best way to convey her meaning. "When you left earlier mother suggested that I take every possible opportunity to capture King Thorin's attention during his visit, which I believe is why she asked me to give his – his _friend_ a tour," she glanced up at Lothi, who was looking thoughtful. "I am relieved that his attention has already been caught elsewhere."

He smiled at this, "So you have no desire to catch the eye of a king?"

Amma shook her head. "None whatsoever," she said firmly remembering the king's darkly scowling face. "He seemed very … cold. Stern and intimidating … No, I would not like that."

"Aye, when you marry my new brother better be someone I can share an ale with, someone that actually laughs from time to time," Lothi said, squeezing her shoulder and making Amma blush slightly, remembering a new, unfamiliar laughing face that she had seen in the hall earlier.

They were interrupted by the Lady Elizabeth approaching, holding a small cluster of interlinked rings. Even at a glance Amma could see that some of the rivets were slightly off and the links varied a little in size. "What do you think?"

"Very impressive for a first forging," Lothi said amicably.

The woman grinned. "I think you're just being nice, Raes's is way better than mine," she added, ruffling the hair of the little Dwarfling beside her and making his auburn braids sway and dance.

"My sister was just telling me -" Amma felt a sudden flash of panic, thinking Lothi was going to tell Lady Elizabeth her thoughts on her relationship with the king. "- that you wish to see the mines next."

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble," she said smilingly.

"It is no trouble," Amma replied demurely, gesturing towards the door.

The two women said goodbye to the men in the forge, who gave them promises that they would see them at the feast later. The Lady Elizabeth had not heard anything of the feast yet, so Raes spent a good few minutes detailing all of the wonderful things there would be to eat and staunchly declaring that he wanted to sit next to her – apparently she had been telling him amazing stories from her world while they had been forging and he was eager to hear more.

They eventually extracted themselves from his childish enthusiasm and started down towards the mines. "This way, my lady," Amma said as they reached a crossing of corridors.

"Please, call me Lizzy," she reiterated once more. "If we are going to be friends then I'd prefer it if you dropped this _my lady_ nonsense."

Amma nearly halted in her tracks. She had her family, being very close to both her brother and enjoying spending time with her little nephew, but she had no proper friends of her own in the fortress, certainly no female friends. As the Lord's daughter she was thought of as nobility, separate from the weavers and domestics. She also knew that many considered her to be proud since her shyness stopped her from talking much – she was not an easy conversationalist and had always worried that people would not welcome her company.

"You … you wish to be my friend?" she asked, stunned. She had seen the easy, cheerful conversations among the maids and the camaraderie of the serving girls, but had never really shared those friendly intimacies with another woman. She had Ristil, her sister by marriage, who she was very amicable with, but she was largely occupied in looking after Raes and her own household duties.

"Of course," the Lady Elizabeth said breezily.

"Oh ...Very well then," Amma said softly, hiding a small smile by ducking her chin. A warm feeling of pleasure was welling in her chest at the thought of actually having a friend – even in this strange, human woman, but a new friend nevertheless.

* * *

_********IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE*******_

**As I have mentioned a few times on the bottom of chapters, I am going travelling soon – off the Australia in 8 days! Now guys, I am afraid that means updates may become slightly more sporadic :( This story is _by no means_ _abandoned,_ but I might not be able to manage weekly updates any more … just wanted to give you a heads up.**

**Also, just want to take this moment to say a MASSIVE thank you to all you lovely reviewers and mindblowing amount of followers – you guys are amazing! :D**

**(Less important authors note, my questions and stuff!)**

**Now, one astute guest reviewer mentioned that Nain is Dain's father, not his mother – I am aware of this, but it is a cheeky bit of artistic licence on my part. In my headcanon children join their father's clan, so Dain is an Ironfist from his father and part of the ruling line of Durin from his Longbeard mother. I am imagining some sort of political marriage, in which Lady Nain (bit of a feminine name, I think) was encouraged to marry the head of the Ironfist clan in order to improve relations, and Dain was the result. **

**This weeks question … what did you guys think of the new trailer?!**

**As always, reviews are welcome and you can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask questions on my tumblr ~kindle-the-stars**


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